Bless you John, you look so peaceful as you lie sleeping in our bed
I wonder which dreams are circulating around your troubled head?
You poor wee lamb, I love you, despite your slightly stubborn ways
But I fear that you look physically drained, and could probably sleep for days
Mother, I hated those pesky rags, so firmly knotted in my hair
They don’t make it look any better, I’d rather they were not there!
Goodness, is Father quite alright? It is not like him to snore
Oh please don’t tell me that he is ill! Not my Father who I adore!
Bonnie, don’t you worry, he says it is nothing serious and I agree;
I think he has a cold, which is why we must be as quiet as can be
Let us get his bath ready for him and it will be warmed when he awakens
Yes, your Father will enjoy a soak in the water if I am not mistaken.
Must I go to church; can I not do what Father does?
It must be so pleasant to lie in a field and examine the clouds above.
How is the wee bump today? I cannot wait to meet my sister or brother,
But we must leave for church now. I’ll look after you, dearest Mother.
©Sophie Bowns 2011-2014