Heaven Sent
Born in premature labor,
she is exhausted and spent.
And rests in quiet slumber,
like an angel heaven sent.
She looks just like her mother,
she beat the odds to survive.
For it was a miracle,
and I thank God she's alive.
She's lying next to my wife,
whose smile cannot be contained.
But although she's overjoyed,
she is physically strained.
So, I cradle our baby
lovingly within my arms.
And open my heart up to
her indisputable charms.
Her chest heaves rhythmically
within the embrace of sleep.
And as I caress her hair,
it's a struggle not to weep.
(Quatrain)
5/15/2015
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