The midwife’s tidying up
with professional detachment

and there you are; wrinkled; pink
with a glow that no man ever made;

and I, a part of you for ever, yet
knowing, now, you’re you…

one day in a little time
I’ll take you for your first High Street outing
in the pram or baby buggy;

trying to pretend you’re someone else’s…
not one I’d fight my life for..

pausing to allow some friendly soul
to glance permission to have a peep;

smile; glow; say a few kind words;

then after that first stranger’s looked at you,
I’ll look at you myself; to see

if you look different, or look differently at me
now someone else has met you.

Sometimes, you are more beautiful,
more full of life, more independent and more you;

as if your path through life had taken
its first step away from me; and yet

along with pride, there’s quiet, sweet relief:
you’ll make it on your own.

But still, I touch your pillow, smooth your cover,
look at you for some reassurance

that we both know where poetry may go;
and you – you laugh, and kick the world away.

Michael Shepherd

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-new-born-poem/