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.