In early days her hopes were bright
With vivid dreams of pink and blue,
With plans and measured diagrams
Of nursery dressed in sunshine hue.

With passing time, her hopes grew dim,
The spark too weak to fight the gloom
Of silent walls and futile dreams,
Of aching heart and barren womb.

Now, mocked by time's steadfast refrain
Of "too, too late" and "never be,"
She finds her pastel dreams obscured
By shades of gray reality.

She prays for help, sweet ease for pain,
The "why" she does not understand
When He says, "No." She weeps for grace
To trust the wisdom of His plan.

(Proverbs 30: 15-16)