She lies in a cloud of gauze edged with pink,
The color echoing in her blossoming cheeks.
Her eyes, though closed, are fluttering to the movement of dreams,
And there is a ghost of a smile
Tugging at the corner of her lips.
I feel a peculiar surge of both awe and frustration
As I sit gazing down at her —
Awe: because I cannot believe I created
This perfect tiny being;
Frustration: because I cannot partake in the pleasant dreams
That so sweeten her sleep.