Sunrise

Come, be my shoulder, 

my hand to hold onto, 

for sorrow’s a vice grip, 

a bore. 

Love, be my oxygen, 

come and invade me, 

even pulling you in is 

a chore.

Darling, sit tight 

for this part will be rocky, 

and possibly what follows 
too.

I promise, though, 

that we’ll see dawn together: 

my sun doesn’t rise without 

you.