Just a bare rememberence of the women she once was

In a antiseptic chamber where she spends her dying hours

I watch her aura dwindle more and more like the wilting of a flower

And ask the Lord each night to bestow me with some power

To take away the pain she feels and to make her whole again

But it seems he cannot hear me and I hang my head in shame

Then somewhere in this nightmare a miracle occurs she reaches for my hand

Get the wheelchair to the babies, and at once I understand

In all her pain and suffering she just wants me to see

The beauty God gave us in children that she knew would always be