You're five.

You lie asleep nursing a sore throat.
You've braved it all day and I read
News - a world of cruel things:
A man on the cover holding a dead leopard,
We've talked of tigers in the wild;
A grave discovered in a faraway land
But not the one we read in
Books before bed.
I teach you to be kind,
Even when others are not.
Meanwhile I shoot dark thoughts,
Glimmers of revenge.
I tell you to ignore the taunts
When I wish to throttle the tiny mouths
That utter them.
Your brother lies dreaming
And I know it's true
That one day all this will be yours.
Meanwhile I'll teach you to cope
With doubt, with rolling fears
With every growing of your tiny years.