Thirteen - A Poem to a Preemie, Now a Teenager
A mother's poem for a preemie.
By Lynn Holland
Sidewinding through the hall
she attracts no boyish crinkled
stare
no clinging squealing female
gushing charm
won't lead
the musical this year
nor the fashioned sequin set
won't be all that
But a narrow chin held up
and steady hand upon my thought,
who knows the rules
of seventh grade
were not made for her,
a great soul and straight
if her body is not...
a star at night,
that I
(who once led a musical)
should know
how very near
is God.