It’s one thing,
One easy thing,
For your joy to be
My
Joy.
It’s another thing,
One. Much. Harder. Thing.
When your ache becomes
My
Ache,
Complete with a deep,
Helpless inability
To apply that soothing balm
For which
All our Sore Souls
Cry.
That’s when I know
I love you.
Too.
defying atrophy 