A Mother's Baby

Andrew Allan McCarty
Happy Birthday 8-11-09

A mother’s baby is a very sweet thing

Last of her own lullabies she will sing
In her heart, as a child, he will always stay
With no new baby to pull her away.

She cuddles and holds him until he’s too old.
She spoils a bit and rarely will scold.
You’d think he’d be awful, expecting his way
And thoughtless of others he meets each day.

Yet watching him grow has been quite a surprise
Her baby grows up right before her eyes.
His gentle concern for others all around
His inherent wisdom keeping him ground.

Humble and patient, still he raises the bar

He sets his sights high, and strides out a far.
He bolsters his strength when he feels beaten down
Honest and open, his wisdom renown.

Friends seek his counsel and his comfort as well
A spirit about him that casts a spell.

He chooses a mission to far distant lands.
People of Canada’s fate in his hands

His influence leaving a spark that burns bright
Peoples lives change from the darkness of night;
Into the bright sunlight of hope, faith and truth;
Sparked by his joy and the humor of youth.