I could never climb like you.
Pray tell where you are reaching to so fervently?
When, if ever, will you reach there, the place invisible to me?
You are charming in your desire, your nature, beautifully designed with passion.

I remember the first time you touched me.
Wrapped around me softly as I stood rigid and frozen.
I must seem so cold to you: unmoving, battered, designed to be used, to be strong.
I was simply placed here and forgotten, left standing alone forever since and perhaps forever more.
Until there was you.
Sprouting by choice or chance yet nonetheless emerging to meet me.

Your touch was not uncomforting.
Not ungentle.
I let you grow on me.
I became something else, more than myself, a lively medley of both you and me.
You continued to climb, faster and faster, wrapping yourself around me, smothering me in a blooming blanket of you.

It was heavy, that blanket.
But I stay beneath it, my gesture one that of a love to reciprocate your own.
I support you.
It is easy for me, I was forged to be resilient.
Perhaps rusty, too rough around the edges sometimes.
I'm sorry. I can't change that on my own.
Yet you stayed.
I gave you all of me.
Yet still . . .
Still. . .
You wanted more.
You continue to climb, flourish, high above the spaces I dare reach.
I could only watch.
I could only let you let go of me and reach further still.
You hold your hands out to the sun,
Soaking it all in,
Moving further and further from me.

Yet I shall be there if you fall, if you should need my support once more.
With you I am transformed, always feeling your warmth.
Always feeling loved.