Holding Henry

When I was holding Henry,
Though it wasn’t very long,
His body felt so tiny
But his presence was so strong.

His fingers, with their teeny nails,
Stretched out, as if unfurled,
When just two days ago,
He wasn’t out yet in the world.

I marveled at his perfect feet
And hair, as soft as down;
His face, as peaceful as could be,
With neither smile nor frown.

In the minutes I held Henry,
He was able to impart
He’d already found the pathway
Leading straight into my heart.