A delicate October breeze seeps through the bedroom window--a silent lullaby. I watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall. He sleeps beautifully, quietly, as I’m sure he did twenty-five years ago in his mother’s arms.
I hold him close, as I’m sure his mother did, and wonder what he’s dreaming of, as I’m sure his mother did, and my heart bursts with love, as I’m sure his mother’s did, and I send God a thousand praises, a thousand thanks, as I’m sure his mother did.
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