In celebration of hitting the half-way mark, I wrote a poem for my baby girls, all nestled cozy in my womb.

In The Womb

Like fingers eager on a loom
He gently weaves us in the womb,
He knows our ways and plans our path
He writes the melody of our laugh.

The earth may tremble at His voice
but in the womb, the babes rejoice
for small and gentle there He breathes,
and in our flesh, His love He weaves.

by: Elizabeth Esther, 8/28/07