Your sightless eyes and wandering mind
show me what I might have missed,
walking quick-step in sensible shoes.
Your thin skin, your fingers nestled,
curled in my own unworn hand, remind me
that our shared days will soon close
before I am ready and full grown.
Down the garden path, you stop and lean
on my strong, young arm. Perfume
lifts from the last rose of summer
and woven together in the moment,
I guide your hand to touch velvet,
lead you safely through the thorns.