The Miracle

The baby lay on her bed, A satin soft pillow under her head, Pretty, pretty little brown eyes, Rose bud mouth to say, "bye, bye". There was no doubt that she was ill, Skin so pale as she took her pill, Soft brown eyes no longer happy, Rose bud mouth to weak to cry. Sweet little fingers quiet and still, Golden curls wafting 'round her face, Tears rolling down her parents' cheeks For they had been praying for two, whole weeks. Then the miracle happened, late at night, God spared her the Dark Angel's might, Sweet little lips, now laced in smiles As once again, she shows her wiles.