After exhaustion, your smile is sleep.
After turmoil, peace.
Your range of feeling is as varied as mine,
as reckless,
even as deep.
But there's a levity in your face that I have lost,
a lightweight love I long for.
On your own, you cannot walk, not even crawl,
on your own you are limited to floor.
I wonder how much there is unattainable to me
but my age deceives me into beliefs
of power, of capability.
You remind me, small movements and bones,
of my own
fragility.
