For Aine Poem by Francie Lynch

Who read this book
Before me;
Read it so
Relentlessly;
Read it
Like you read to me?

Who carved letters
In this tree;
Neatly carved
For me to read;
Will you carve mine
As deep as these?

Who walked these streets
Ahead of me;
Held a hand
As you hold me;
Saw deep puddles
And carried me?

Who loves me more
Than you love me;
Gives this love
So generously;
Hugs me like
Bark hugs a tree?

We read that book
To you nightly;
Walked these streets
For your safety;
Held you close,
Yet let you be.
We know you know
From the start,
Aine's carved
In our hearts,
Carried there
When we're apart,
So every pulse
Through every vein
Gives us strength
To do again.