Oh, long awaited treasure,
oh miracle divine;
the Lord has favoured me, His servant ,
with this son of mine.
Yes, miracle indeed for Sarah,
way past child-bearing years,
long given up the hope for any,
shed so many tears.
Yet God had promised to her husband,
Abraham, obedient one;
descendants numerous as sand grains,
beginning with this darling son.
The mother holds her little child,
breasts once shrivelled now bear milk;
caresses tiny downy head
clad with hair like sleek black silk.
Whispers touch shell-like infant ears
while kisses linger upon his precious baby face
like eider down,
easing away that windy frown.
Sleep dearest child, my darling,
rest now, for you've in store,
the promise of a wondrous life.
I could not ask for more.
© 2018 cherryk
(All rights reserved)