Not often one gets a chance
To produce a beautiful piece of art
To reproduce a bud
From old roots and watch it blossom
Into an exquisite flower
Which attracts and bewilders
And whose perfume and aura
Touches one and all
This work of art, this bud
This flower of mine
Not solely but shared
And I will allow sharing
Not with everyone
Not just anyone, no - just with one
With my wife, her mum
As she is my daughter
Precious, is not the word?
But infinitely so
Proud, is too little
To describe how I feel
Pleased - very
At the way she has turned out
None to compare
For she is my daughter.
By Jack McCann, the plastic surgeon, and eminent leader of a surgical team to Albania, from his new collection of poetry: Turning On a Sixpence.
