I look at your face;
How it fits in my hand.

I smile at your noises;
Your grunts, squeals, and cries.

I hold your small body;
Feet, arms, fingers, nose.

Each day that passes
You grow a bit older.

Your eyes understand more.
Your body fills out more.
Your hands try to grab more.
Your mouth holds a grin more.

The only thought that keeps me from crying,
That keeps me from missing each day that passes,
Desperately clinging to these moments with you;

Is the promise
The hope
The excitement

Of what God intends you to be.