Friday, March 27, 2009


He is small and delicate, a flower in my arms

Giggles and coos--little tooth buds arising from his gums

I breathe in his sweet scent:

Baby lotion, warmth and milk

He is a treasure, a gift from above

He is my son.

She is an adult, full-grown--off aside, out of the way

Empty, sad eyes looking at the ground

Stooped shoulders, old broken clothes

Hair matted with dirt and sweat

Yet, she too is a treasure, a gift from above

Just like my son.

How often do I shirk from her, oh my father God?

Was there ever someone who held her close as I do my son?

Coos and smiles, sweet scents and beauty

Are easy to hold, to love, to adore

I want to with Your eyes and Your heart see

Your treasures.

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