Dear Baby, here beneath my heart,
I thought that you might come today;
the timing just seemed right.
But the stars are out and the moon is high
and sheepishly I wonder why
I try to arrange the plans of God.
For now I know you will not come
until the One who holds eternity
rustles your soft cocoon and
whispers in tones that I will not hear,
"Its time, precious gift,
Now its time."
-Robin Jones Gunn
