Walking stick: a cane by any other name

It was your dad, the reason why
We both exist still to this day.
I always saw you, wee small fry,
Your tiny hands to grasp & play.
 
As you became a graceful she
The years that took him to the fringe.
And then I saw as plain could be,
He had an angel care for him.
 
Like of the tree where I came from,
There is a purpose meant for me.
And as when you fell, a spring plum,
But not how it was meant to be.
 
I’ve never let you see me cry,
Not since the day you can’t recall.
He didn’t know in all that while
How hurt you had been from that fall.
 
Remember when he switched the canes?
Yours was pretty, I had strength & brains.
He gave me to you ‘cause he saw
We two would help each other walk,
 
That’s how he knew when we would talk.
‘Cause even though he hadn’t long,
You needed me to make you strong,
To be there for him, not a clock.
 
I’m glad you always keep me near
So even as you sleep I hear
His voice, that grand ol’ carpenter,
Reminding me, ‘Take care of her’.