Unwritten

Her warmth against my skin
 reminds me i am breathing deeply
 Her wriggling toes and
          Squirming limbs
 are like laughter coursing through my veins

 So much of her little life
            Her big story
 is untold now
And I want to fill in the blanks spaces
scribble in lines that will make her
Happy and Comfortable all her days

 But though my imagination and pen could create a story
they are not what caused her lungs                         to suck in life
 And I could not weave a tapestry
 like the One Who causes her heart to pulse
                                                      so perfectly

 I look down at her eyes, fluttering awake
Happy And comfortable
I tell the Playwright            

Happy and comfortable

And as she lets out a little content sigh
 I hear in Reply
              No, dear mother.
 Simply ask that in her story she meets my son
Who did not always know
              happiness and comfort
And she will instead know
       joy and peace Everlasting.

 Her warmth against my skin
Her wriggling toes
Her untold story

 Does she get my worry for her with her milk?
 Or my blessed assurance in Him?

 I close my eyes and whisper in her tiny eardrum
                                                      JOY EVERLASTING