The baby has his father's eyes

but cries the tears his mother cries

To another land his naïve mind flies

as sleeping in his crib, he lies

He has the feet his grandfather wore

when he first stepped foot through the door

Counting each step, and adding some more

Calloused, sullen, worn and sore

He has the fingers of sister's hand

They've been on the swing set, in the sand

on her dolls, on her family, her dog, and

push her off the floor, to help her stand

The only thing that's new to him

is the sweet and tiny, happy grin

to shine, illustrious, on his kin

and brighten up the place he's in