I have twelve children
Each one named for a
month of the year
January February March
and so on
Here come the girls
April May and June
I call my children
sweetheart precious darlin’
even when they aren’t
I cradle each creation
like they are my own
even when they aren’t
I talk earnestly with
other parents about
diapers naps and strained peas
as if life depended on poop, sleep and lunch
because it does
I pretend your children
are mine and exclaim
oh how beautiful
even if they aren’t because
I know we only get twelve
chances to write a
poem for tiny hands
sketchingwords.com 