In a world often hurried and loud, there came a moment of profound stillness. The painting showed a baby, serene and luminous, swaddled in hues of cosmic blue, nestled amongst shimmering stars. It was "Heaven's Child". "How fortunate we are / When an angel breaths / And the world is invited / To Listen," the poem began, its words echoing the quiet awe of the scene. Indeed, when this tiny being, this ethereal "angel," drew its first breath, the cacophony of life seemed to fade, replaced by a gentle invitation to simply be present, to truly listen. The poem continued, "How bright the moment / When the sound invites / The human soul / To Glisten". For the parents, this child was more than just flesh and blood; it was a pure melody, a sound that resonated deep within their souls, causing them to shine with an inexplicable joy. Every tiny sigh, every soft coo, was a note in this celestial lullaby, making their spirits "Glisten." Years passed, and the initial awe matured into a profound, ever-deepening love. "How fortunate are you?" the poem challenged, "When the angel is a child / And the call to love starts / To thicken". The child grew, and with each passing day, the bonds of affection strengthened, becoming richer, more complex, and undeniably woven into the fabric of their lives. The innocence of the sleeping baby in the painting was a constant reminder of the purity of that initial, overwhelming love. ​Finally, the poem spoke of the "precious the gift / The feet and fingertips / Of Heaven's Child safe / Sound and sleeping". It wasn't just the grand moments, but the small, tangible details – the tiny feet, the delicate fingertips – that held the immense weight of this blessing. Even now, as the child grew, there were still moments, quiet evenings, when they would watch their "Heaven's Child safe / Sound and sleeping," and feel the profound gratitude for this celestial gift, a constant reminder of the angel who breathed life and love into their world.