You used to say, I love you
WE WERE COMPANIONS
We were companions he and I
one of several unwanted children,
but always there, fidgeting.
Always there to be made or marred.
We were companions of convenience,
and when the realization exploded in my head,
my eyes sparkled briefly,
the barest touch of moisture in them.
We were companions when there was no one else,
your friends all but gone now like scroll-worked relics;
your gates finally opening wide to me,
no longer fenced in by iron pikes and low crumbling brick.
We were companions ‘til the end
When he said, “You're such a precious child,
remember how you used to say, ‘Daddy, I love you,’
why don’t you ever say that anymore?”