A Woman's Roaming Mind - Tasha Martin

I often feel so small,
Like a child here, cradled
In the warm crevices of your arm.
It curls around my body;
You're holding me to
Protect me.

I feel safe like a child,
But you're not my father;
You've taken his place.
And I have to admit I feel
Slightly jealous of our daughter.
You'll protect her in ways

I am beyond saving
With your arms covered
In skin too soft to be
Dangerous or frightening;
Skin too soft for this old soul
That lives in your young body.

There are things that weigh
On your mind that I wouldn't
Wish on any kid our age.
But we have to be adults
Without the luxury of acting
Foolish.  Until I find myself

Drawn up in these strong arms
And am reminded of how
Inviting they can be when you
Tighten them around my body
Or carry our sleeping babes

Off to bed so we can at last
Be foolish.

In these arms where
I often feel so small.