I Wish I'd Known
I wish I’d known
this was the last time
blue would touch
the deepest part of my heart
another heartbeat, faster
one with my own
life moving in me
moving me
my calendar has nine months
dreams of someone knit within
hair woven in colours only imagined
first cry a glorious song
love unveiled
cradled to my heart
beating it’s love
in a rhythm already known
lips brush dewy cheeks
until now caressed by waters within
feel purest joy
nourished by me
joined in our need for this closeness
drift to sleep
newborn fragrance
the sweetest lullaby
squealing cherubs run in an unsteady gait
learn to dance
then fly
love unconfined
shared with the world
giddy from every phone call
visit from our dearest friends
whose bedrooms are
no longer across the hall
ache for peace felt gazing at sleeping faces
holding onto faith
they’re safe in Your arms
some nights we still get bedtime hugs
before hollow sound
the front door quietly closes
intimate communion, shared by two
laughter without echoing giggles of children
sleep mostly undisturbed
silence unbroken
by calling voices
a baby’s cry
wrapped around eachother
hearts tied together
our prayers lift to the heavens as one
a plea
for grandchildren
lots of grandchildren.
I wish I’d known
this was the last time
blue would touch
the deepest part of my heart
another heartbeat, faster
one with my own
life moving in me
moving me
my calendar has nine months
dreams of someone knit within
hair woven in colours only imagined
first cry a glorious song
love unveiled
cradled to my heart
beating it’s love
in a rhythm already known
lips brush dewy cheeks
until now caressed by waters within
feel purest joy
nourished by me
joined in our need for this closeness
drift to sleep
newborn fragrance
the sweetest lullaby
squealing cherubs run in an unsteady gait
learn to dance
then fly
love unconfined
shared with the world
giddy from every phone call
visit from our dearest friends
whose bedrooms are
no longer across the hall
ache for peace felt gazing at sleeping faces
holding onto faith
they’re safe in Your arms
some nights we still get bedtime hugs
before hollow sound
the front door quietly closes
intimate communion, shared by two
laughter without echoing giggles of children
sleep mostly undisturbed
silence unbroken
by calling voices
a baby’s cry
wrapped around eachother
hearts tied together
our prayers lift to the heavens as one
a plea
for grandchildren
lots of grandchildren.