brown eyes peer over tiny glassestaking in the colors of the world around.
delicate little fingers touch what is before,
a curiosity that cannot be contained.
when the music dances
so does she.
her purple dress swirling as she bops.
left and right,
her head flys
tossing the hair her momma worked so hard to do.
at music's end
she crawls into the nearest lap,
giving her affection freely.
sometimes that lap belongs to me.
i often wonder just what it is she sees.
she cares not where i've been
and even less about what i've done.
she loves me for who i am.
unsuspecting. unknowing. unintentional.
are the lessons she forces us to learn.
Jesus said "Anyone who will not receive the Kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." Mark 10:15
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1 comment:
Good poem, Amanda. And a nice site redesign. I still think you need to come on over to St. Louis blogs, though : ) It's got thumbnail capabilities and recent comments and customizability. I'm just saying...
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