What I Thought As I Lay In The Quiet.

He's gone three morning's now.

And sharing Mama every day.

And he's playing hard.

And I am turning my time and thought's to things other than baby.

And then,

a night like tonight,

when one is too tired to stay awake,

and misses his cuddle time,

And another is too wide awake to sleep,

and tosses and turns and talks and sings,

muttering to himself...

And I wonder am I good enough?

Until at last,

as sleep catches him

a train rumbles out of the quiet night,

past his window,

and from the land of nod

his little hand is raised

in a wave.

He never misses one.

And I think maybe it'll do.