a poem for my little girl

a little girl,
yet descended,
a new soul
newly founded.

eyes closed
to my world,
still she dreams,
thoughts impearled.

what dreams
can yet unlived
life design,
or hope uplift?

and how can i,
being passing by,
hold her gaze,
sight's first supply?

the giver's choice,
can i demur?
no, i can but take
and to god offer