That there will be one or two waiting
with hands to hold you through floods
of crowds and reaching for you in rivers
of sports fans rushing past your head;

to lay on blessings of evening explorations,
fidget through long hours awaiting
the door latch and the fridge slam you
tucked into a familiar corner at home;

to give up reaching and fall at the bedside,
fold and submit you and your youth
beyond the touch of helping hands
to a kinder embrace, not here but not far.