Tiny Wrinkled Hands

Tiny wrinkled hands,
Wrapped around a mother's finger,
Cries of delight that always linger,
Reaching for a hidden treasure,
Seemingly glorious beyond measure,
Open wide for a brand new feel,
Curiousity and awe with so much zeal.

Tiny brilliant eyes,
Staring blankly into space,
Seeing the joy on a father's face,
Taking in a whole new world,
All the mysteries of life now unfurled.
Witnessing both love and pain,
A look of hope not in vain.

Tiny unbroken feet,
That have never had to walk a mile,
When first used will bring a smile,
That will walk this earth for years to come,
Bringing tears of joy to the eyes of some,
And to others a fear...
because of the damage we've done.

Note from the author:
As a new father, I hope that this message makes a point to the people who choose to read it. This poem was written to show the joy and wonder of a newborn child, and then make people consider the fact that the human race has done so much damage to the world our children will live in. Even if I get one reader to see this truth, this poem has made a difference. Please, enjoy.