Wednesday, December 1, 2010


A poem I am writing for my best friend's new baby girl who was born today. It's not done yet, at least I don't think. Inspired by the poetry I've been reading for class and a picture sent to me this morning of Peyton Jean, who shares my middle name, and already has my heart.

In December, your baby born,
crinkled brow and pursed lip.
I cannot be there with you now,
but soon enough I'll make the trip.

And when I hold her in my arms
a piece of you, in flesh,
my love will flow through out-stretched arm,
your baby cradled at my breast.

Can love spill over onto her?
When I see her, I see you.
Can beauty be thus transfered?
Her beauty is yours; in, with, through.

Though I've not met her
I know her laugh, her hand, her skin,
for they are yours, and I know she'll also hold
your gentle, loving heart within.


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