The Weight of Dependence

She stood at the gate, hope painted on her face,

as I walked closer, steadying my pace.

Her backpack bounced, a rhythm of trust,

I was her anchor, and this felt so just.

Innocence shone, a light in her eyes,

one small moment, yet vast like the skies.

I thought of the weight that this role would bring,

how dependence can lift, or just clip a wing.