Perhaps she would sleep now
Was there when she was born
And helping the midwife
Now we are on our own
Me listening each night
It was blowing a gale
Twigs slapping on the glass
Wife now sound asleep
Breathing quite steadily
Who says dad's sleep right through?
Baby daughter whimpers
Please don't cry I whisper
But she is unsettled
Tiny hand reaches though crib
With its pink wooden rails
Is she needing a feed?
Quietly I get up
Rocking her gently in hope
But now she wants to play
Coos and murmurs at me
Carefully I lift her up
Take her to the lounge room
It's halfway through the night
She's happy to play now
Gurgling her own sweet words
Crisp cold of next day's dawn
Wife finds me nursing babe
Now sleeping in my arms
And I ache all over
Dark bags beneath my eyes
"Been up long?" she enquires
Smiling happily now
"I'll get a cup of tea"
She looks so beautiful
So glad it is Saturday
Image found at www.huffingtonpost.com
This poem is one I have rewritten from an earlier one and seems to fit the prompt
Nice one Robin, Have a good Wednesday
ReplyDeletemuch love...
It's good to know there are caring fathers in the world
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteI sighed too. Robin, you are the sweetest man. Your wife was one lucky woman! I love this poem! One of my new faves of yours.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is truly delightful. How beautifully you write about this most special memory. So utterly sweet!
ReplyDeleteSo wonderful to read a father's side, and so gently and lovingly written. This touched my heart.
ReplyDeletedaddy's little girl beautifully written
ReplyDeleteFatherhood changes a man completely. Delightful... there's something satin about the poem! Tender, gentle and absolutely beautiful, Robin.
ReplyDeleteIt's so beautifully described. A newborn's hand is art!
ReplyDelete