I sit, listening to you talk about
our hair brained scheme
to make me a writer.
All you do is support.

Every phase meets your unwavering love.
No fear in my latest poison being forever.
No scolding me
because you worry
I'll never get better.

Instead you proof read,
plan,
love,
and support.

Never do I feel as if my failure
would cause you to be
disappointed
in me.
Never do I worry
any success
would make jealousy burn
between your ears.

Instead you listen,
you love,
you cultivate.

I am not a thing to you,
I am a small sapling
you water,
and trim the dead parts off of.
I am an investment,
you already accept
an unknown ending to.