Chubby cheeks and arms,
and a weight on my chest.
When you were very small, you used to whimper and frown in your sleep and you reminded me of a lost little alien.
I used to feel badly for you - missing a perfect, warm, complete home.
You didn't know you couldn't go back, and you'd cry for it.
All hours,
Till we stumbled round and stop-gaped the problem.
Appeasing our lost little alien.
It's been painful every way,
nothing is given.
Sometimes I still choke when I think about the things you will have to face.
Our Boy
I wish I could promise it will always get better and all you'll ever need is your little fuzzy duck and your pile of puppy games.
I wish dancing around corners would always make you forget every hurt, forever.
We're all little aliens, and sometimes we feel it and sometimes we don't.
But you'll always be the weight on my chest,
One way or another.