Sometimes, my daughter does not want to sleep;
She instead wakefulness decides to keep,
Even as nighttime hours on her creep
As they upon us all advance each night
And put her parents' waking minds to flight
And leave them dreaming, perhaps in delight.
But she resists the coming somnolence
Until it, with soft force, will drive from hence
Her conscious mind, or it, at last, relents,
And her cherubic face goes slack with sleep.
The image made is one I gladly keep
In mind; it's succour when I weep
And prone to making smiling time each day.
Not much affects me in such happy way.