Child of my Dreams

In my home I sit and watch

My infant child quietly sleep.

She is beautiful, precious and mine.

for this privilege I gently weep.

I lean down in her crib

And take one curly blonde lock.

I twirl it around my finger

And think of the boys she'll mock.

I look at her face, her nose, her ears

Her big green eyes under sleeping lids.

I wait for the day those eyes will dance

As she plays with all the other kids.

I gently hold her arm and think

Of how a hug from my child would feel.

Her hands make me think of the day

I can teach her how to make a meal.

Her legs, I see, are going to be strong.

They'll soon run, jump, and play.

I just can't wait to watch her grow.

Oh how I've longed for this day.

I stay for just a minute longer

And watch this tiny life

Which I have the privilege to raise

And yet there's something that cuts like a knife.

I don't know what it possibly could be.

I've never been happier than in this place.

Yet somehow I just have this feeling

That it's reality I must face.

I lean down and kiss her softly

And say goodbye to my sleeping girl.

Then I open my dreary eyes

And face my lonely, real world.

My real world is so childless

And will always be so.

For I cannot have or adopt a child

I'll never watch her grow.

This leaves an empty place inside

Where nurturing should be.

What could take the place of motherhood?

I wish someone would tell me

9/15/2000