Will I ever see your sweet, tiny face,
Or get to feel your small, warm embrace?
Since I was young I have dreamt of you here,
But year after year my hope turns to fear.
Fear that I won't feel you kick in my tummy,
And fear that I won't hear you call me your mommy.
I wonder and I dream what you'd be like,
Would you like dolls or trucks? would you like riding bikes?
I'm not the only one that...