A/N: Okay, so this is my second HP poem. So yeah, I'm probably going to post more poems here, but it won't be regular updates, so please don't ask me to update soon or anything, okay? So yeah, this poem is baisically just musings on my part and it's about after Lily and James die, how they would be worrying about what would happen to their son, so it's asking the question of whose going to watch Harry as they are gone, and the four (well actually five,) people they're asking are Petunia, Sirius and Remus (who I stuck in one group, because... I felt like it.), Mrs. Weasley, and Dumbledore. So yeah, read and review I guess.
A Mother's Tears

No one can keep him safe,

And shelter him from the night.

We aren't here to keep him close,

And chase away his fright.

No father's strength to guide him,

No mother's gentle touch

It's the little things you'd never notice

That matter to him so much.

Two lives as sacrifice,

To keep him through the years

But this small boy will never know,

The comfort in a mother's tears.

Who will watch this child,

And give him a place to lay his head?

Will a sister who hates them

Give him space to keep a bed?

"I will keep him grudgingly,

Though I may wail and moan,

And never treat him perfectly,

Or keep him as my own."

Who will teach their son,

Of the sacrifice they've made?

A pair of friends from long ago,

A friendship now long frayed.

"We'll try our best to watch your son,

Though long years will we part.

In memory of a friend we once had,

Whose death keeps us apart."

Who will show him love

Which he desperately needs?

Will some perfect stranger

Perform this helpful deed?

"My family will take him in,

As a mother should

And though he's not my son,

I say he's just as good."

And who will teach him all,

Until the day will come

That he must face his demons

And to destiny he will succumb?

"Only I can keep that task

And teach him of this path,

And prepare him for the day

That he must face the Dark Lord's wrath."

He walks through a life,

Fraught with suffering and pain,

An ending waits for him

That he might see us again.

He has his home and helpers,

And a teacher who is wise

And the mother's tears he needs

Are reflected in his own eyes.