The Child's Sonnet

Oh what a wonder, and wonderful morn
to which I wake, to which I rise
and tear the sand from around my eyes
on the day upon which you were born

And I must admit that I am torn
the speed at which the time now flies
the same pace of the sun 'cross skies
at how your new smile makes mine worn

But child, you cannot think of me
I wrote these words so long ago
before your face I'd even know
before your smile I'd even see
and long for days to come and when
your face would show me mine again