Cushioner and beckoner, you were soft and delicate
when we began.
You smelled of new things; fresh as green feels
when it brushes bare skin.
You waited for me, so you could hold me up
when my muscles were testing gravity;
and you were colour-dipped and stained
by each sunset.
I had faith in you, my stumbling two, before I knew of kings or gods;
before I could calculate odds, and mind if I toppled.
Together, we marched forward into life.
Wise and weary now, you are etched with rough lines;
thick and deep with tested flesh,
and the passing of time.