Open up your door and I am there
standing, waiting on the dusty street,
ready with a football and a day,
time enough for both of us to smile.

Our weekends are fields and lakes and trees
and walks out in the woods with pack and tent.
I always have a story or a song
and you, a riddle, or a funny joke.

And if there is a stream I cannot cross
you push me on and guide me safely through.
I hold you through the damage that’s been done
by your family’s cold indifference.

Be it in pain or obstacles to pass,
we haul each other up into the light.


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