Not the loudest,
not the first to arrive
or last to leave.
You are the steady warmth
between seasons,
the breath that doesn’t need to be noticed
to keep the body whole.
You are the chair pulled close,
the cup filled without asking,
the hand that doesn’t flinch.
You carry no banners.
You don’t demand.
And still,
you hold up the sky
for someone.
That is enough.
You are enough.
You always were.
Ryan Stone
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