Courtney Frey, birthmother Poetry...A Child's Choice

Birthmother

Just a child am I,
Arms holding tight,
To a child,
This baby of mine.

The feel of age has gone away,
This clean white room,
Where I now stay,
With baby, and choice,
Oh God, please hear my voice.

I sing.
Each lullaby,
Tears falling on your face,
By grace,
My heart will always cry.

I count your toes,
Each set of five,
And pray you know,
My touch forever, through your life.
My song, I pray,
Will always stay,
Deep within on stormy nights,
When you're afraid,
May my voice bring light.

I lift you up to God,
Weak arms from labor,
Shake and shiver,
Cold, I give you
Up. To Him.

Father, please,
I prayed that day ?
When you were new, just born,
And mine. I'll let him go,
If this is right,
But forever now,
Keep my sight,
On seeing him . . . again.

In that last hour,
I cried into your skin,
Tears soaked up and kept within.
Oh, sweet baby, please forgive me.

I'll be here, till we meet again.

?courtney frey - it is illegal to copy, sell, or reproduce in any way without permission from the author.