Twenty Six years of joy, of life
this love chosen to be his bride.
Premature, tiny by midwife,
a father beaming by her side.

Flowing tresses of auburn hue,
shimmering eyes of soft greenish gold.
Lips that tasted of honey due,
such a treasure to keep, to hold.

Walks in the morn for a bouquet.
Giggles echoing among giant trees.
Laughing, living, a woman’s way.
Such a sight to be seen and pleased.

Carried a child, he did not know.
A newborn babe expected soon.
The swell she hid, it did not show.
From that one night beneath the moon.

The pains that came one night alone
before the time of birth was due.
No friends nearby, without a phone.
He was not there to help her through.

The child was born but would not cry
a tiny face once pale now blue.
She spanked his feet, please do not die.
This babe lay still, the angels flew.

A breath they gave upon his lips
to bring to life this chosen child.
A heart now beat in tiny skips,
his mother cried, the angels smiled.