The littlest foot gurgled then gave a
big yawn,
His mother held him tightly, it was
just before dawn.
In the backyard of the suburbs with his
father playing catch,
A yell to come in for a Saturday noon
stretch.
A college graduate, listening to his
girlfriend sing;
A ring in his pocket to give to her
that evening.
Then the littlest foot grew into a man,
In that hospital room, holding his
wife’s hand.
The wonderful sound of a small cry
breaks through;
In the still of the night his baby born
new.
…
But the littlest foot never got to grow
up,
Because
a choice was made for his life
to stop.
A mom never got to rock her barren
miracle to sleep.
A father never got a son, for his last
name to keep.
No, that littlest foot never got to
crawl or grab hold of a finger.
He never got to marry or feel a kiss
that would linger.
He never got a blanket to keep him warm
at night.
He never got snuggled after an
experience of fright.
He never got to be a daddy. He never
got to see.
He never got to speak, for he never got
to be.
His perfected life’s mission was never
made full,
Because the littlest heart chose pride
over a soul.
- Julie J.
Heaven's slice is adoption and defending the defenceless.
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