I Have To Use The Bathroom
Seven year old hand, I hold on tightly.
Crowded in a restaurant, I fear slightly.
This is the first time I've been responsible for the safety of a youth, how am I reliable?
A stall is empty, I let go of her hand.
Waiting outside, on guard I will stand.
I take her freshly washed palm into mine
And thanking all that is holy that fate has been kind.
Returning to our family, my job has been done.
She thanks Aunt Sarah and asks for more buns.
That day, I felt older like a real parent.
Or a protector, it is apparent.
Written by A_Failed_Artist
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