The child in my aching arms reminds me,
Transports to another time and baby,
A babe so fine, a child of mine, beside
Me. Overwhelmed, overfull with bliss, pride.
Who can describe the emotion inside?
New mother for infant new and so pure,
Together for months yet a stranger, mine,
A meeting moment in physical time.
A mother can neither forget nor try
To capture the instant, brilliant joy,
The squeeze of the heart the tear in the eye
Of memory, precious, never to die.
Polly Robinson © 2012