If I could, I'd take this load from your arms, and I'd carry it myself.
If I could, I'd take the whispers and nods and little glances of the eyes and make them directed at me.
If I could, I'd take this world and turn it back; back to the day of two girls playing in a bedroom, sharing secrets in the dark, holding hands when they walked, faces to the sun, running full-speed into the icy waters of Lake Michigan, never once hesitating.
If I could, I'd make it all alright. I'd take the ache in your heart and put it in mine, and fill yours with light and laughter.
If I could, I'd take the breaths for you that sometimes feel too overwhelming to take.
If I could, I'd walk in your shoes while you rested your feet in the sands of a secluded beach, listening to the Counting Crows, drinking in sunshine and peace.
If I could tell you how much I love you in words, I'd need to create new ones.
So many things, if I could, I would give you.
All those intentions are there, in the hand that is always holding yours, no matter the miles between.