Grand Child

I haven't been attentive to the blog for various reasons, mostly just too lazy. However, a certain nephew reminded me that he reads my poetry and I should get with it. So here I am again.
I have written a number of poems about my granddaughter. She had major heart surgery when she was three months old and I wrote something about those harrowing experiences. Here it is.

Intensive Care by P.J. Wolf

You see your granddaughter lying there, A baby in Intensive Care
Tubes and wires floating around, Machines making sucking sounds.
Gauges flashing signs about her tiny body's health
It scores the heart like eagle's claws, Especially when that baby smiles.

Her mother there by her side, Bends to kiss her on the head
The one free little arm and hand, Grabs a bit of the mother's hair
Both giggle and laugh giving some light
To a place where worry and fear Permeate the air
In that room in Intensive Care.

You put yourself in a different place, Looking down from an outer space.
The surgeons did a miraculous job, Complications, however, have occurred.
A lung collapsed in her tiny chest. They work to make it breathe again
So the baby remains with her mother there
In that room in Intensive Care.

Nurses come and nurses go, The baby greets them
Looking around as if she knows, Each one personally and lets
Them turn and touch her with tender love.
While we continue with worry and fear
In that room in Intensive Care.

Eventually the surgeons solve the case, The baby is using both her tiny lungs.
The tubes and lines and all the machines are removed so she can leave that place.
Going home with her mother and father to her own familiar room.

Joyful for all of us, To have her home again
They say my granddaughter won't have a memory of her stay
In that room in Intensive Care.
I wonder if that might be true, I know the tear in my heart I felt
Will stay for all eternity, Especially when my granddaughter
Smiles at me.