You were just a chubby bundle.
Just a shivering lump.
Of feather scratched skin.
Soft and peach wrinkled.
But You held every inch of me
In your inchling grasp
Tiny, tiny fingers.
And you are new.
You are newness to this world
And you offer it hope, absolute.
Pouring life
From every crease
In your beautiful being.
And I offer you up.
My gift.
The only good thing.
That I have ever done.
Lauren Michaels
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gift/
