Would my child be born to me,
with Papal's chin and Mother's glee?
would growth be short to just my height,
or taller still above my sight?
would hair be dark or feather light,
and curl to hip or be cut slight?
My child I wonder what you'd be,
a one to win and set men free?
Upon my arms to feel you now,
you suckle with small furrowed brow.
No whines you make with chin up turned,
your eyes so heavy my tickles spurn.
I see you on the first bus ride,
to school with others I wave goodbye.
You do real good and letters cite,
your curious thought full of appetite.
My cheek a tear as I see you off,
but you hop right up your hair a toss.
Then onward years I'm standing by,
as he stands before you smiling bright.
Your dress so smooth the flowers twinkle,
the dance your first, you go I sprinkle
tears land but happy thoughts I have,
your smile is all I want to have.
The years roll on and there you are,
all dressed in white me on your arm.
We're walking down the aisle all blue,
The young man looks and grins at you.
You say your vows, to him be true,
Your heart a gift, you glow anew.
Now on my death bed say goodbye,
no tears of sadness set thoughts aside,
I wish you smile, I come right too,
My thanks for love and years with you.
My child unborn in heaven still,
My womb no good, the dreams askew,
I'll never hold you till once we meet,
at heavens gate where me you'll greet.
- Trish 2009