Little feet, charming smile
Taking a step, once in a while,
Sweetness such, it’s undefined;
Like bud or dew, or honey refined.
When she speaks, but are they words?
Seems like the song, of some faraway birds.
Sweet in innocence, innocence sweet,
It sweeps me away, from my feet.
Beacon of light, joy and delight,
The little angel, she’s a Mother’s pride.
Nice poem, I like the last line. A child is a little angel, one that becomes his mother's most pride. I love it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a lovely and warm piece.