I don’t have children of my own,

but I know what it’s like to accidentally be called “mom.”

 

I don’t have children of my own,

but I have zipped coats, tied shoes, and held small hands.

 

I don’t have children of my own,

but I’ve wiped tears and put on band-aids. 

 

I don’t have children of my own,

but I’ve heard tiny “I love you’s” as we have parted ways.

 

I don’t have children of my own,

but I have defended ones as if they were mine.

 

I don’t have children of my own,

but I have cheered for achievements

and encouraged through struggles.

 

I don’t have children of my own,

but I have shed tears over the unfair situations

some have had to bare.

 

I don’t have children of my own,

but I have watched the children of others grow

and develop before my eyes each day.

 

I don’t have children of my own,

but I care so much for each one that

passes through my classroom.

 

I don’t have children of my own.

 

But if the day comes that I do,

they will share my heart with every child who has already found a space within it.