He lies beneath the knife today,
his sweet old heart growing weaker.
It has made him sad and housebound,
no longer the merry, cheery seeker.
He is everything in this world to me,
though physical business is through.
At our ages, we just want to live
with what little we have and can do.
I am straight and he is...less,
but that does not even matter any more.
We have a bond that is sweet and pure...
I could not ever ask for any more.
Sins we have prayed for, and been forgiven.
Today forward is where we live now.
I write in tears and fears for him till
I know what what is what and how.
As I have aged and grown weak and frail,
he is my hero with bright shining star.
He helps me with his walking stick to ward
off any careless, uncaring driven car.
Without a thought he combs my hair,
grown long as he likes and I always wanted.
We care not what people think of us;
often we two have been cruelly taunted.
My family threw me away years ago,
no one cares what I need or what I feel.
But he is there, this gentle artist friend
with his heart of weakening steel.
God, guide the surgeon’s hand I plea.
Let the wires come uncrossed and repaired.
For this I pray, my Lord and God...
let his recovery in health be heaven-declared.