None But You

They had told us you, are you.
We had thought this might be true
And as we took a glimpse within
It was clear.

Those hands and feet are yours;
That smile your mother adores,
Belongs to you alone,
Our baby boy.

In your life you might be told,
That as your days unfold,
You must become like
Everyone you see

But our hope is that you’d know
As you blossom, heal, and grow
How we long for you to be
None, but you.

© Jeremiah Dowling 2015


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About Jeremiah Dowling

I write poetry and take crazy pictures in an Orange Chair all over the United States while reading amazing books.

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