riley's hands lying on the snare

if i was weary,
and my back bent off to a side,
and, like metal, refused to bend back —

if i was weary,
and my arms were sore and my hands blistered
from supporting those who cannot support themselves —

if i was weary,
and my eyes were red and welling
with seas that reflected the evils i was forced to witness —

would you still give me a smile?

i know you would.
i would find you in an old house,
on the bank of a lake,
and you would sing me a song and play the guitar
and i would sit and close my eyes and sway.