I have learned a thing or two from my little girls

Whose worlds seem too often a rush of swirls

They seemingly came armed with their Crayolas

To teach that life is not about the payola

But, to seek dreams on distant shores

And take the moment to slow roast S’mores

To that delicate  crispy brown of campfires

Moments that live on and always inspire

When my first born arrived so did my purpose

My breath was taken away and so was my suppose

No longer supposing but living with direction

Accepting the lessons and God’s relentless correction

Counting yet another blessing as my second was born

I have learned the ways of joy even as I sometimes mourn