Oh Brother! Thou Art A Bother!

You I have loved and watched over
Since about the time I turned three years of age
Are a worry to me know as we both age.

I worry about your health
While you worry about losing your hair,
And your youth, and your money.

I worry about your ability to keep working
To pay your singular way in the world
As you try to keep it all "juggled and afloat".

I know that I cannot take your troubles from you
And place them on my own full plate,
And you would never allow this to take place.

Why could you not stay a sweet, happy, little boy
And why could I not retain my great energy of old?
Then, I could just shake my head and laugh at you!

You art a bother, yes you certainly are.
But, at the end of these days I am glad for this:
You art my brother, dear and beloved all these years.