Lullaby

I want to place my hand
on the side of your face
and let you lean on it.
I want to sing you a lullaby.
I want to bake you cookies
and wrap you up warm,
shelter you from the storm
in the folds of my coat.
I want to give you medicine
on a plastic spoon
and promise you
you’ll be better soon.
I want to tuck you in tight
so you won’t fall
and show you the darkness
holds no monsters at all.
I want to read you a story
that will make you believe
in mermaids and magic
and people.
I want to scrub you with soap
and towel you dry,
hug you when you cry
and lay out clean clothes.
But you’re not a child
and I’m not a mother
and you might forget
it's another I love.