Deep down in his cosy cot a wisp of hair you'll see
A small round face and eyes closed peacefully.
A wee little one in a big dark world a little boy,
Lying in a room of safety, love and toy.
Somewhere in the quiet house,
There is someone listening to catch the slightest cry,
The faintest whimpering, or a tear drop from an eye.
And though she may be busy with her lap top down the stair,
All her thoughts will be trained on the little one up there.
There is a hushed and sacred silence everywhere.
You must ease the squeaking door and mind the creaking chair.
Nobody must make a sound. On tiptoe they must creep,
When word has gone around that baby Kainoah is asleep.
Written for my dear little grandson, just a few months old
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