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When you no longer feel
the desire to rise
on mornings when the bed
is the only comfort
a man can have,
I will rise for you.

I will carry your body,
your heavy heart
and all worries that burden your mind
to the edge,
where a friend may idle in uncertainty
and I will not let you fall.

As the months of Winter
clench cold fingers around your throat
bringing loneliness
and the shortening of days,
I will feed you
spoonfuls of fire and compassion
enough medicine to warm and get you through.

I will not let you sink
beneath the quicksand
of time
of age
of hopelessness.

I will be the vine you grasp
when hands are not strong enough
to pull you from the evils
that you yourself
create.