by Carol Lynn Pearson
My day old child lay in my arms
With my lips against her ear
I whispered softly, "How I wish,
I wish that you could hear."
"I've a hundred things to say
(a tiny cough and a nod)
Hurry, hurry, hurry and grow
So I can tell you about God."
My day old baby's mouth was still
And my words only tickled her ear.
But a kind of light passed through her eyes,
And I saw this thought appear:
"How I wish I had a voice and words;
I've a hundred things to say.
Before I forget, I'd tell you of God --
I left him yesterday."
Day Old Child
