Childer

A Poem by Phonetics

Pretty little thing,
Shining brightly in my palm,
Almost close to my heart
And bearer of my
Inner most mind.
How you hold your shape
To my love
As easily as marble is Moulded
By expert hands,
Who deftly carve
In set stone
Their master piece.
So do you,
precious Child
Become more dearer than
My flesh because
Your eyes
boil my existence
Down to seeing them glow
With contentment and pride.