All day long
Kids come up to me
Holding up
A ****** elbow
A scraped knee
A paper cut finger
A rug-burned hip
Usually crying
They beg for a band-aid
They want help
Desperately, they sob until
The band-aid is firmly in place
And I've given them a hug
Then they are okay
A smile often returns to their chubby cheeks
I send them off to play again

What I'm wondering is
At what point did I
Stop
When did I stop asking
When was I no longer more than willing to
Cry out for help,
Help that I knew was there and willing

At some point
I decided I would be fine
Walking around
All ******
I convinced myself
Somewhere along the ride
I could make it
Without the band-aid