From the earliest sign of movement, Before even the first breath I took, Open palms anxiously awaited The soft kicks my tiny feet would give. Mother always watching over Those warm sensations felt by me, Through each gentle touch In the love of my Father's caring hands. I grew within As cautiously those palms crossed her skin, Searching only to know how my day had been, Through my hours away from him. The moment my life joined their world, Whispered promises hushed my cries, As snugly my body was held In the love of my Father's caring hands. Throughout the years, we grew. Often together an