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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1391075
There is love deeper than that of a mother for her first born.
My First Born

She walks in beauty,
This child of mine;
Created in a moment
Too brief to remember.
And now she's a woman grown.

Tiny and graceful,
Even then her beautiful eyes
Could catch and hold you
Looking right into your heart.
She is an imp and an angel
And now she's a woman grown.

She's out in the world now,
Making a life of her own..
  Still...
I wonder if she knows
How proud I am of her,
How much I love her,
And how special she is to me
This child of mine,
And now she's a woman grown.



© Copyright 1998 TheGypsy Widow
© Copyright 2008 Joey Martin (thegypsywidow at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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