I hold your soft, frail head in my hands,
I see your blue eyes smile at me.
I reassure you with a sigh,
“Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

The weeping willows barely sway,
waving as you drift away.
Your boat sits empty and still,
praying to God, you have fulfilled his will.

Giving in was not your choice.
You are not to suffer anymore.
Cancer will not stalk you,
it’s impossible to follow your fearless walk.

I see your smile in the sunrise every morning,
your bright eyes when we fish for hickory nuts and bluegills.
I feel your frail hand holding mine when I’m alone,
and your unending strength in the wind.