A poem that goes some way toward expressing how I feel about being a husband and father (though I don
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[left][/left]Through the blinds creeps the sun laying tracks of morning gold.
And with it comes our own sunshine, bounding, laughing, a miracle to behold.
Brighter than the slanting light, her mother's smile illuminates her face.
images of family present and past, in her all have found a place.
Hands on hips, a questioning look, the tilt of her innocent head.
The pinch of a nose, the pull of a lip 'Come on mam, come on Dad, time to get out of bed.'
The doctors said she would never be, so we prayed to the sky above.
And then she came, our own angel, a pint-sized gift of unconditional love.
Time is a thief, so they say, but I don't think that's true.
Because my little girl, when I watch you play, I live it all again through you.
And as she joins us on the bed amid tracks of morning gold.
I realize the three of us, our family, are indeed a miracle to behold.
So with them in my heart I work all day and it no-longer seems so bad.
My wife, my child, the ones who changed me, rearranged me, the ones who made me a Dad.