She holds his hand today
Like she did when he was three
And they walked out in the gardens
And gave names to every bush and plant
She holds his hand today
Like she did when he was five
And clinging to her arm
Half-tearful, half-anticipating
On his first day of school
She holds his hand today
Like she did when he was sick
And all the doctors in the world
Couldn’t tell them what was wrong
Or how to fix it
She holds his hand today
Though the breath comes in no more
And the weight of a thousand worlds is there
And the light of a thousand suns is missing
In a giant house
Full of everything
That will evermore
Be empty
(Assumption: “Rich people never deserve sympathy.”)
