The Tender Children

The tender children,

so bright, playful, full of innocent wonder,

running, skipping, giggling, drinking chocolate,

kicking the soccer ball, rolling on the floor,

molding the clay, stacking the blocks –

They warmed our space of waiting

as if it were their living room,

as if it were not just a momentary harbor

from the chilling storms,

but rather a place to claim for our own.

We lingered longer than usual,

drinking coffee, like a family,

sharing this precious moment of ease.

On the walk back, the girls held hands with Melody.

We hugged and kissed them good night.

This morning, dad said they called me

their American Papi.