Fighter

Seventy times have I cried,
reached up my arms as I died.
Seventy nights full of tears,
seventy days, even years.
Over again have you come to my bed,
wiped away, comforted, led.
Through sorrow, remorse, you have loved me of course
and now deeper love, then when we'd began.

Lovers can leave you so cold,
Mothers can make you feel old,
Singers may hold your heart for just a moment,
but when the songs over you're lonely again.

You are the fighter beside me.
You haunt me and hold me and hide me.
Your wars, big and small, may seem nothing at all,
but I know their strength over sorrow.