Parents warn you about not sleeping,
You imagine the wails and cries,
It’s not them that have you weeping,
it’s the grunts, squeeks, snores and sighs.
I’ll admit I’m not the quietest myself,
But your cacophony is incomperable,
Listening is getting bad for my health,
And my systems are becoming unoperable.
She can sleep through it all it seems,
Perhaps she’s used to my grinding,
It could be however she’s deep in dreams,
After 6 hours of feed and winding.
I love you madly, first born son,
And every snort gives a flutter of pleasure,
Sometimes though silence would be golden,
You noisy little treasure.
oooooooo you brought tears to my eyes with this poem…I hope she knows just how lucky she is to have you in her life
a hearty and heartfelt congradulations as well
you warm the cuddles of my heart with your words