Dearest child, our prayers we hold each day in thought for you in hopes of recovery

As the music plays and all those move to fast in disarray to the meaning of life's uncertainty

Yours is one of gentleness and understanding from your words and messages that we receive

As time is perceived as a clock on the wall, that moves forward, yours is the will to move ahead with belief as your hands are displayed as a mother's weave

Oh little one of innocence and purity, hope is yours for you have what is as precious as the first day your parents held you in their hands

The word ill is one of fear yet I believe, as well as all those who have read your poem, for we do have faith in you as the wind grazes the sands

You and I live in a world with a sun and a moon similar to the butterfly that leaves its cocoon to be free

Wouldn't it be something for everyone to see that you could leave your room and be with your friends and family and as time passes someday hear the sounds of little voices calling out to you the name mommy and realizing it's not a dream but your reality?

--- Copyright © 2001 Duane Gomez