In the garden of life, where thorns may grow,

There stands a man, whose heart shows he knows.

With gentle hands, he tends to the scars,

Of a soul that's been wounded, beneath the stars.

 

He listens with patience, to stories untold,

Offers a shoulder, for tears to unfold.

His strength lies in kindness, not in might,

A beacon of safety, in the darkest of nights.

 

"Your past," he whispers, "is not where you are now,

Your courage, your resilience, shines brightly through.

I stand beside you, not to overshadow,

But to walk with you, through every shallow."

 

For he is the warrior, who fights with love,

A guardian of healing.

His masculinity is a tender embrace,

Uplifting the spirits, of those lost in the chase.

 

So here's to the men, who with honor, do see,

The power of supporting, a woman to be free.

For in the dance of healing, with hearts intertwined,

Lies the truest form of masculinity, one of a kind.