A host of gifts are given from God above.

Grandest of these is a special child,

Who hauls benumbled limbs, is wracked with pain,

That not even modern medicine can mend.

When toil is so great, you pucker to sob

Your eyes are swollen the tears won't come.

Floating inside the glands darting pain.

The fire raging within, demanding.

Tired of fighting but seldom a protest.

Brave as a soldier dearer than any medallion.

With devoted parents and loving family,

Because you rank special in God's lot.