Life

Life, it is such a precious thing A child is such a miracle I see her and bells start to ring In my head, a true spectacle I know, I know how young I am But I want to feel that life too As gentle and pure as a lamb So perfect, innocent, and new Baby girl, her fingers so small Her eyes close with tranquility And I wonder: Who is to call? Who can I ask of what I see? What sort of life is meant for her? Will she be her momma’s child, Happy, gentle, and free to soar? Proud like her dad, openly wild? I hope, whatever life she has That she becomes everything That she would never fear to cast To be what she was meant to be I hold this small child in my arms And hope I’ll one day have my own A life that I will keep from harm To learn things I have never known This child is a true m i r a c l e . . .