“It’s three AM, they’re all asleep, and no-one’s here to see.
As we rock slowly back and fourth, my baby boy and me.
His little hand is feather light, tucked up against my chin.
I hold his tiny hand in mine, and stroke his baby skin.
The house about us creaks and groans, the clock hands creep around.
He snuggles closer to me still, and makes his baby sounds.
I love these quiet hours to much, and cherish every one.
Store memories up inside my heart, for lonely nights to come.
All too soon he’ll be all grown up, his need for mummy gone.
But until then I still have time, for kisses and for song.
Time for quiet hours like this, with him cuddled in my arms.
Where I wish he’d always stay, protected, safe and warm.
And yet I know the day will come, when his tiny little hand,
Will be bigger than my own, he’ll have grown to be a man.”
Poem found on Facebook, unsure of the author so if you know who it is please let me know so that I can give them credit where due!