Beneath the sky, I park and wait,
A quiet vigil, a twist of fate.
He walks inside, his heart so bold,
To give his blood, his story told.
And here I sit, with guilt’s soft sigh,
For once I tried, and once did try.
But body weak and rules so clear,
Say no more chances year by year.
He gives, I watch, our roles defined,
His strength to give, mine left behind.
Yet in this space, I find my part,
A silent cheer, a loving heart.
For though I wish my veins could share,
A rarest gift beyond compare,
I learn that giving’s not just done,
With needle, blood, or setting sun.
It’s love that drives us both to stay,
And hold the ones who give away,
The life within to heal, renew,
As I hold guilt and pride for you.
–
Well done for having given blood SO many times! You’ve saved so many people. Mine is rare so I wish I could give also, but you have given enough for both of us over the years. So proud of you.
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