You Didn't Hurry Me

You didn't tell me grief would make me strong,

Or give me reasons why I shouldn't weep;

You washed the cups. You played a quiet song,

And stayed beside me when I couldn't sleep.

You made the toast; you pulled the curtains wide,

Then saw me flinch and drew them halfway back;

You left the bowl of oranges by my side

And fetched the book I'd buried in a stack.

You didn't ask me when I'd be all right,

Or count the days I managed not to cry;

You let me leave the dishes overnight,

And never asked me for a reason why.

There isn't any debt for you to claim,

And gratitude is more than what I say;

But when the dark returns, I know your name

As someone who was there and chose to stay.