Grace

Grace

Number seven,

We’re in heaven,

Heads twirling,

Girling this year,

Two granddaughters,

(After five grandsons),

God is good,

Yet, Grace is not,

Yes, Grace is her name,

Still birth weight; a little more,

She likes to sleep,

She squeaks every breath she takes,

Her little arms uplifted high above her head to breathe,

She needs to eat to grow,

Rub her feet; get her naked,

Wake up every two hours,

Please eat, and don’t throw up,

Mom and Dad are up, up, up, too,

With you,

Exhausted, but loving you,

Doctors with God given skills attend,

And, attending to this Grace,

Who’s every cell,

The ten toes, ten fingers,

All God given, too,

The doctors can surely treat,

But, only God can heal,

So I will pray for,

Skill and understanding,

And, for Grace,

Tonight!

Peter Lowell Paulson

February 3, 2014