Once a wee thing, soft, fragile as rice paper
Cells joined cells and grew rounder, filling
Filling with liquid, and flesh and bone
Then, a tiny movement, a flutter
Soft as a butterfly wing,
brushing a blade of grass
then stronger, growing bigger,
moving purposefully
getting crowded in this confined space
Outside, the world waits in apprehension
Inside, impatience to be free
Soon to join the human race
Distinctly unique, and precious
and with luck this wee babe will know love.
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Ron
Regis