but you, you’re the crutch of a cripple. you’re the calm of a conscience. you’re the peace that i have found. when all these voices talk too loud, you are quietly reassuring me. with the hands of a healer and the tongue of a teacher, it’s your voice that I have known to be the first one on the phone.

well, should I admit that my promise is counterfeit, that I’m careless and childish and that’s all I can hope to be. and would you concede that I think only of myself;
I refuse everybody’s help who has been reaching out for me. well, you reach with the soul of a sailor and the swing of a miner. you have cleared the rock away, leaving gold there in its place, and it is more than anyone could claim. oh, with the sense of a banker and with the touch of a tailor, you saved this life for me and you have sown it to beauty and I am grateful now and I will always be.

you’re the cool of the water. you’re the start of the summer. keep me still like a anchor. in a storm, you’re the cellar. when I’m heavy with worry, make me light as a feather. when I’m deafened by anger, you’re the song I remember with the grace of a dancer and the strength of a pillar. when I’m starving to suffer, you just fill me with laughter. you’re a poet and a saint, you are the only one I choose to imitate.

like the love of a father through the eye of a camera, it’s this picture I have seen: we’re on a sloping hill of green, and you are walking there beside me.