I am not a very good poet, but I liked this one I wrote....
I cradle you in delirious arms, seven pounds of milk filled sweetness born a little to early and a little too small, wondering, not for the first time and not for the last, what it is you want from me
Blueberry blue eyes, echoes of your sister and grandmother, stare at me demandingly, your furrowed brow insistent and indignant
For a moment you look like a Jim. A little old man with a bald patch and double chin, with hard candy and a driving hat leaving church just after communion in a race with the Lutherans for the best seats at breakfast.
You grunt and squirm and I am humbled by my own ignorance as I offer you breast and blanket and pacifier and your consternation only increases.
Just go to sleep, I think impatiently as you scrunch up your face, bleating a little lamb cry in frustration at my impotence. Not for the first time and not for the last, I want to fix this but can't.
And then, out of nowhere your eyelids close and your body is still and there is nothing but the sweet rhythm of your breath rising in your chest and the sweet peace of hard-fought and well deserved sleep.