The wee hand
reaches upward touching
the face of one
who has waited.
The smile,
at first hidden by
those questioning eyes,
finds a humble subject;
as a King might
discover those who
live to serve.
Spring approaches and
tears water barren fields,
sure to profit those
who wait.
Of all the days
offered and accepted,
this day is
best.
Of all the days;
this day has
meaning.
The sun,
the child,
the kiss.
- D.A. Weesner
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