If the World Was My Child


If the world was my child, fitful and sick in bed
I’d put my cool hand gently on your warm forehead

I’d offer you a little toast, some chamomile tea
I’d ask you what story you wanted me to read

If ugly fever dreams startled you and made you so afraid
I’d hurry to your bedside and talk those demons away

I’d whisper silky words about the lilacs on the tree
I’d move you over gingerly as I fitted fresh clean sheets

If the world was my child, grown too tired and sore to cry
I’d open the curtains a little so we could admire the bright spring sky

We’d talk about the daffodils, stink bugs rising from their holes
I’d promise that you’ll be healthy again, I’d hold you oh so close

I’d bring you the lightest broth, I’d sing your favorite song
I’d tell you jokes that make you laugh until you again felt strong

I’d sit right beside you knowing the fire on your soft cheeks
would finally fade to pink excitement and you’d get up, ready to leap

to run, to go outside and embrace the beautiful day
forgetting the sorrow, the nightmare, chills and endless aches

Oh, if the world was my child, I’d admire your endless patience
I’d remember how you are very kind and definitely courageous

I’d return to my daily routines, making each task a simple reminder
that every word we speak can be a prayer, a hope that we’ve grown wiser.

graphic from urbansocialentrepreneur.com

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