Heaven Sent
She arrived prematurely:
she is exhausted and spent.
And rests in quiet slumber,
like an Angel heaven sent.
Looking just like her mother:
she beat the odds to survive.
For it was a miracle:
I thank God that 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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
