he wriggles in the falling sheet
and lets the breeze take him
squeals and shakes my heart
there in the symphony of sunshine
and fluttering washing line

in the evening
he curls up close and sleeps
breathes so deep that it's hard not to believe
he is the very soul of peace
I wipe milk stains from his cheeks
and hold back tears as his mother says to me
And how are you, sweetheart? 
You look so tired.