Small bump

You were just a small bump unborn, in four months you're brought to life.
You might be left with my hair, but you'll have your mother's eyes.
I'll hold your body in my hands, be as gentle as I can,
but for now your scan of my unmade plans.
Small bump, four months, your born to life.

You're just a small bump unknown, you'll grow into your skin.
With a smile like hers and a dimple beneath your chin.
Finger nails the size of half grain of rice,
and eyelids closed to be soon open wide.
Small bump, in four months you'll open your eyes.

You are my one and only,
and you can wrap your fingers round my thumb,
and hold me tight, and you'll be alright.