“Catch the baby!” my brother would yell
As he tossed me to the other.
I thought the strongest men on earth
Were my three strapping brothers.
I’d sail through the air without any fear,
No thought of falling at all.
They’d stand in a triangle tossing me
Not once ever letting me fall.
I trusted them with all of my heart,
These men that I came to love so.
Having brothers who thought I hung the moon
I flourished and continued to grow.
I spent a childhood of them catching me,
Protecting me from whatever would harm.
They “caught the baby” so many times,
Holding me close in their strong arms.
Copyright © 2006 by moleta ruth mccarter. All rights reserved.
