You may be born in some unsightly shed,
Or in a hospital bed,
On the floor on all fours,
Wanted, planned and loved,
A wicker cradle for your bed,
A mistaken holiday plan,
Left in a station van,
Fed with a tube
Or breast, if best,
Cuddled, coiled
Wrapped in sheets,
But however it is
You are complete.


With love to all new babies.
Mary ***