Downward

I'll pick you up. 

Your tiny tears.

Your chubby cheeks.

Glistening. 

I'll hold you.

Rock and sway.

I'll sing. 

Offer my breast.

Later, I will offer band-aids.

Kiss.

Magic touches.

Made up words.

I'll love you. 

Soothe you.

But you'll have to pick yourself up.

Someday.

You'll have to learn to lift your legs.

You'll be angry.

Because I won't carry you.

But I can't.

And someday, you'll understand.