A Poem is Born

The Process

Out of love, you were conceived.

Out of love, you will be set free.

I felt you move in me before you were ever born.

Then, from out of my loins, you came forth.

Little by little, you began to mature.

I gave you heart…I gave you soul,

I gave you eyes

And hands to hold.

All I can give you now is wings to fly and a name.

I think I shall call you…

A poem.