A little poem I wrote for our Samuel on an earlier birthday.
Once poor, the house a small treasure now holds.
A baby boy with sapphire eyes
And full, fat fingers, bravely takes
On tickles, tugs, and tiny campaigns bold.
But when the night brings sweet, silver sleep,
They watch–and kiss the moonlight on your hair.
For when the King, (who on your very face
And in your soul stamped His own image there)
Offered the titles Mom and Dad,
Man and wife soon sold all they had.
