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.