The Gift of Being a Father

by AntPearson

Wrapped in brown skin floats my true gift.

The one I would ask for if only I had one wish.

Will he have my eyes, my ears, my head, or my nose?

Are the questions Iím guessing the answers to as he grows.

He broke water rushing me out of work to catch him.

Ensuring the first hands he lands in carries a love filled blanket.

Shivering and shaking, heís history in the making.

A testament to Godís presence and the impact Heís making.

Resting on my chest our hearts beat as one.

Itís euphoria, this must be where dreams come from.

Santa can never provide this type of treasure.

I have never seen a stork who swoops down in the ghetto.

Iíve been blessed with a responsibility, I deserve it and I cherish it.

No one can separate what is created through merit.

We mold his mind, combined with his motherís and mine.

A prophecy filled, my miniature sign of the times.

The Gift of Being a Father by AntPearson

© Copyright 2009. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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