Heaven Sent
She arrived prematurely:
she is exhausted and spent.
And rests in quiet slumber,
like an Angel heaven sent.
Looking just like her mother:
she beat the odds to survive.
For it was a miracle:
I thank God that she's alive.
She's lying next to my wife,
whose smile cannot be contained.
But although she's overjoyed,
she is physically strained.
So, I cradle our baby
lovingly within my arms.
And open my heart up to
her indisputable charms.
Her chest heaves rhythmically
within the embrace of sleep.
And as I caress her hair,
it's a struggle not to weep.
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