I hold you in my arms, little one,

And I feel the weight of the world settle onto me.

I long to protect you, to always keep you safe,

And a part of me wishes you were mine.

-

I can see five years down the road,

When you're bouncing off the walls, always asking why,

When you're just discovering how cruel the world can be,

And a part of me wishes you were mine.

-

I can see ten years from this moment,

When you're far too big to hold,

When you're first tasting independence,

When you're learning far too fast,

And a part of me wishes you were mine.

-

I can see fifteen years from now, you this newborn in my arms,

I can see the rebellious teen, trying to fly solo,

Trying out your wings, falling and soaring,

Learning things I wish you never have to know,

And a part of me wishes you were mine.

-

I can see twenty years on, when you're a man almost grown,

Testing out the waters and trying to make it on your own,

Going to college and acing everything,

Making us all proud,

And a part of me wishes you were mine.

-

And I can see a hundred years down the line,

When we're all dead but you might still be alive,

And you've cured cancer and were president,

When you saved the world—

And a part of me wishes you were mine.

-

I look back down at your sleeping face,

Gently touch one of your tiny, perfect fingers,

And a smile crosses my face while I think about crying.

You're so flawless, so innocent—and the world will corrupt you so soon.

-

Your mother reaches to take you back

And I almost wish you were mine.