I remember
Gazing at your smiling face
Soft, round cheeks
That soaked in all my kisses
Bright, wide eyes lit with wonder
As yet untainted
By all the cruelty of the earth
And I heard
Your gurgling, squeaking voice
Pure emotion, not yet twisted
With the sounds of explanation
Or curbed by bitten tongue
Tiny, grasping fingers
Reaching for the world
And I thought, so ironically,
“This, if anything at all,
Is a thing for which
I would go to war.”

– s. Clark