If the ink in my pen dried up today
I hope the last words I write are about you
How you changed my diapers or my life
you taught me about God, the way no preacher
could ever explain. I wiped my tears on your soft
shoulders when my mother made me cry.
I was your favorite, and you were mine
but neither of us said it out loud.
I wish that I could have more years with you
I wish my children could meet you and have
those laughs that we share. I hope that my stories
do you justice. I wish I could be there for you
when your heart is weathered, but I haven't mastered
that art of comfort that you do so perfectly.
