On hold

When a mother

Is in need

At the end

Wondering

Whose end will

End first

I worry about

His running not

Paying attention

As his mind scrambles

To what he thinks he

Needs to do constantly

When all he needs to do

Is be there

Hold hands

Yet food is his

Love language

Hoping to bring

Her around with the

Tastes he grew up

With…

Watch over him

God as he’s

Not being careful

But running

Like a squirrel

To fulfill what he

Sees as a need every

Moment…

Our ideas don’t

Mesh… our lives

Are dwindling

And I find

His heart will

Not give up but

His body will

As he keeps up this

Constant pace…

I pray God

Gives her the

Peace to let go

Before this pace

Takes a toll…