i sat in church one sunday
and in front of me stood a young mother
small baby cradled in arms
though the infant's skin was of a delicately golden caramel, her mothers was pale as milk cream
she turned to grin that sweet innocent grin only children possess and poke her tongue at me
it looked as a small petal held between her lips, moist with dew and velvety soft
she grinned so easily and lightly, it would have been unthinkable not to have an absolutely comic grin of one's own tugged from ****** muscles
her eyes sparked with that special flame only the innocent and childlike possess
and in that moment
i could not have loved a child more