Through the depth of each night, till the dimming of days,
it’s a difficult path to the parting of ways.
For the sake of us all, for our dads and our mums,
The carers will carry the vulnerable ones.
When others step sideways, the carers come through,
to meet expectations that daunt but a few.
Intuition and patience, resilience and smiles,
They will take up the slack for the final few miles.
Ten fingers strive to exercise a mundane task,
enslaved by hands, their jealous masters, clasping fast
till aching knuckles buckle to the bracelet of the day.
You’d guess they’d ask (above the crack of whip) how so
that they who long to dance, are pinioned tight and must
suspend their joy for subsistence, impinged by stress.
But never did these fingers speak; suffice to know
how noble words and careful deeds and soulful breath
held checked, cut in to scintillate with dazzling display.