Our Child - Poem by Margaret Zamorano
"Even before the breath of life, just a seed, the
start of my life, my father, mother and me. To watch
me grow share my needs even though I was but a seed.
Now I'm your son, me."
By life a baby has been given unto us, to love,
direct, and to mold his little life as he grows older,
to build within him trust. Our child, have began to
grow, to watch his smile, and the gestures of love,
which is a part of us. We mold him with the things,
we do and say. Oh just to see him grow in two
different ways. As each day come and go, seeing the
character of us both, being mold into one. A lot of
love, serious work has begun, yet so much fun, even
with the hardships that is to come. Knowing we are
one of many, but this love seem so few, for he's our
To love a child, is to hold their little life so
dear. God granting this child within our care. Just
to take his little hand in ours, all soft, warm and
full of cheers, to wash away their little fears, there
is no greater joy that this here, Your baby's smile
is no greater joy than this here. Your baby's smile
holding so much love for the two no others love
will do. Just to hear I love you.
Yes to hold their tiny life, so sweet, help make our
life complete, sets a goal for us to do, to try and
mold our child quite unique. Giving him the pattern
of life complete. As he grows, the quality we have,
and love shared.
As we share old lullabies that travel far and near.
The dongs we sang, and many we hold within us so
dear. We want him to hear.
Our child so perfect and complete, from us, the flow
of life, all soft, warm, again so unique.
So lot us together, walk with him, sharing his every
need. Molding his character in life that he might
believe. Through him all things are possible, when he
tries, but now an infant is he, we hear his little
cries. Knowledge and power start with us, so let us
walk side by side, to mold, the greatest gift God
gave us, our child.
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Margaret Zamorano's Other Poems
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You