First Dependence

She sat in the kitchen, eyes spilling in tears,

her chair, once a throne, now trembling with fears.

A weight pressing down, I felt it that night,

a fragile soul reaching, needing my light.

"What should I do?" her voice cracked like glass,

a decision too heavy, the silence held fast.

I gulped down my doubts, searched for the right way,

to guide her through shadows, though lost in my fray.