Shield My Son

Ooh. Ooh, yeah. Mmm. I whisper ancient

prayers above your sleepin' head. The words my mother spoke when the world felt

made of lead. A spell to guard the softness in your open hand.

A shield for the boy they'll one day call a man. I dress you

in invisible armor every day. Teach you every phrase you shouldn't have to say.

"Yes, sir." "No, sir." Hands where they can see. And every time

I say it, it breaks a piece of me. Ooh. Hmm.

Each morning I memorize your face in the sun. In case tonight I have to