Not really wanted as a child,
Yet into this world I came,
Not to be a bundle of joy,
Just someone to give a name.

My Mother did not want me,
And that was plain to see,
No hugs and kisses were given,
Just get away from me.

No, I will tuck you in at night,
No, pleasant dreams my love,
The only comfort I recieved,
Was from an Angel up above.

Not aware of Heavenly things,
As I lay amidst a filthy crib,
That there was a radiant light,
That shone upon this lowly sib.

Tho my Mother did not want me,
And now will never know,
That Jesus stood beside my bed,
With his hand upon me so.

Tho it sounded like baby talk,
What I said you will never know it,
But I talked to Jesus, and He said,
One day you will be a poet.