In the yard, the sunlight streaming,
Megan's digging in the dirt.
My daughterfair and freckledonly three:
Now she looksis Papa watching?
Does he know I'm being good?
I ache with love, blow kisses playfully.
She is blithely humming, wandering
Toward the borders of the lawn
Where lurks a poison oak, enticing, red.
It calls her name, this temptress:
See how shinyprettybright?
Put down your spoon, and grasp my leaves instead!
How I hasten to her side, and
Cry, "Oh sweetie, let it go!"
Her fists behind her back, a stubborn chin--
"Papa, no," she whispers, pouting
As I open up each hand:
Six crumpled leavesand tender, blistered skin.
Though I bathe her hands with water,
Still the damage has been done;
Her toddler's hands by toxins are defiled.
Oh, I wish she would have listened
To her papa's warning words!
Forgive me, Lord, forgiveI am my child.
Jan is a Christian who has traveled through sorrow and depression, and has found victory and grace. She dedicates all writings to her Heavenly Father. Check out Jan's website at www.1hundred-words.com
Copywrite Jan Ackerson--2006