One More Day

A new born child, wrapped in all its innocence,
Complete with infant smell, both warm and clean,
Has laid its little head down ever so gently,
And has quietly fallen asleep, upon its mother's breast.

At two years old, can such activity be ceased?
At mid-afternoon the mother holds her child, 
With gentle rocking, and forced stillness, the head is nodding,
And after gentle coxing the child is soon asleep.

At four the conflict rages and sleep is often fought,
The child is held securely, you must be quiet, is taught!
The mother holds the line of battle firm and to the end,
Until the child is sleeping upon her breast again.

At six no nap is taken, to calm the hurried press
But mother in her wisdom has found some quietness.
She holds the child gently upon the breast at morn,
The child is sweetly wakened and mother is not worn.

At eight the mother questions, is my child to old for this?
Ought I to hold her gently in the breaking of the day?
May I please just let her waken as in days of yore,
Upon my breast in sweetness as in the years before.

Now her child is ten. A habit has been made,
On the shoulder of the mother her head is gently laid.
She holds her child and ponders the conflicts of this day,
To wonder when this child will rise and turn and walk away.

Oh let this moment last, when mother and child are near.
Let the time continue, to hold a special place so dear.
Allow the day to linger, the years to slip away,
but let the mothers breast be secure for one more day!