They were a matching pair.
She sat patting his hand,
saying quietly, my poor baby.
Each of them had half a smile,
one on the right the other on the left.
We laughed that they could have
wheelchair races but really,
it wasn't funny. They laughed anyways.
It felt better to laugh, we all had
cried enough.
It became normal for a time to
cut up their food and help them eat,
we would take turns cleaning them up,
taking care is what we did for
each other, that was love to us.