FIRST BORN

FIRST BORN

by Robin Shwedo

©: Robin Shwedo, 1975



Baby's breath,

gentle,

as a wispy summer breeze,

touching the green grass.

You,

lying there,

asleep,

barely three days old.

Coming home today,

you cried through your

first big adventure.

Brown hair,

thinner than an old lady's,

short,

fine,

softer and more delicate

than anything imaginable.

Last week,

your daddy helped

a little boy

he never saw before

fly a kite.

That night,

he could hardly wait

to have a four-year-old.

But now,

gazing at you,

he,

as I,

is content to watch,

and wait,

and love you

for yourself.



Anyone who has ever had kids can probably relate. This is part of a collection titled Poetry Unassigned, which is looking for a publishing home.