Written by: Michaela Wilson
I remember your tiny toes,
Roll across my belly,
As I felt you slowly grow.
I remember thinking,
“One day I’ll hold these very feet
And I’ll paint them pretty pink.” .
These tiny toes,
Now pitter patter across my floor
As I clean the crayon
Off of the door.
My baby’s feet
Will surely grow.
Maybe she’ll be an artist?
Or maybe an athlete?
Either way she chooses to go
I’ll love her just the same
Her and her tiny toes.