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| Our first son. . . |
 |
| . . . he sleeps |
Here I sit,
Time flows by
As though a stream.
I see it not
Yet, it passes by.
I care not.
I’m on duty.
My grandchild sleeps
Weary and worn out,
Wrapt in dreams,
Renewal underway.
Contentment I feel,
Privileged,
To sit beside him
As time flows by.
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| Our second son with his first son |
Memories arise,
Years come back,
Beside a bed I sit,
One of our children
Sick or injured sleeps,
Trusting eyes shuttered.
Snuggled under blankets
Yet with untucked hand
Firmly holding mine
Sleep’s therapy tasted,
Parents concerns eased,
Faith’s prayer a comfort.
We count it an honour
To have sat there
As time flowed by.
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| with first grandson |
Once again I sit
Beside a little one,
And time trickles by.
When his eyes open
Secure he’ll feel,
Reassured.
With a smile,
A big, big stretch,
He’ll recognise me.
Refreshed he’ll be,
Blessed I’ve been.
So it’s worthwhile,
My point of view,
To sit beside him
As time flows by.
