"Call me Mother" I told her, the first time I took her home.
She was quiet and I could tell she didn't want to be alone.
Then we approached the front door, where I led her inside.
She waited for a moment, then ran off to hide.
"Hide and seek, oh alright.
But after this, it's nighty-night."
I looked around the house for her,
Until I heard a little stir.
I found the child behind a curtain.
"I knew I'd find you. I was certain."
I grabbed her wrist and down the hall
We walked to her room, I stood tall.
She stayed silent, I think afraid.
But we got to her room: Tidy, bed made.
Others sat upon their beds.
"Go to sleep." they would nod their heads.
Then they slipped under the covers,
And all at once said "Goodnight Mother."
The girl still stood next to me, the youngest one.
I loosened my grip and to her bed she did run.
She slipped into the blanket, closing her eyes.
But I waited there. The others weren't surprised.
"You need to say it." I pulled off her covers.
She opened her eyes, the others shuddered.
"Come on now." I smiled, though it took her a while.
"Fine. Goodnight. But you're not my Mother."