A vessel of infinite imaginings woven
in the kaleidoscope of innocence,
seeing you for that moment,
as life breathed you into my arms.
Fluid motions of gratitude, as noses
met and a smile versed on daddies
eyes. Wonderment that this innocence
had a mothers beautiful eyes.
You were a little box of crayons,
the randomness of your expressions
drew smiles upon a grateful parents
faces, gazed at you with gleeful reflection.
You were a gift to our memory, a story
to verse on your years yet to pass.
Your our little box of crayons, waiting to
see which colours draw upon our lives.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 7:24 AM UTC
A vessel of infinite imaginings woven
in the kaleidoscope of innocence,
seeing you for that moment,
as life breathed you into my arms.
Fluid motions of gratitude, as noses
met and a smile versed on daddies
eyes. Wonderment that this innocence
had a mothers beautiful eyes.
You were a little box of crayons,
the randomness of your expressions
drew smiles upon a grateful parents
faces, gazed at you with gleeful reflection.
You were a gift to our memory, a story
to verse on your years yet to pass.
Your our little box of crayons, waiting to
see which colours draw upon our lives.
