a silly little heartfelt prayer

i cut his hair,
his crazy hair,
his fuzzy einstein hair.
i sat him in the sink and snipped it --
he didn't even care.

i picked him up,
i wrapped him up,
i pajama'd him all up.
he smelled so good and looked so nice
draining his sippy cup.

i laid his head,
his fresh-trimmed head --
his fingers found his head.
he tried to grasp the hair i'd cut
while sinking into bed.

he always did,
my baby did,
hold hair is what he did.
but now his fingers slipped right off
the short locks on his lid.

"oh no!" i cried,
this mother cried,
whose baby never cried
at having lost his infant grasp
on comforts he had tried.

i squeezed my eyes,
i touched his eyes,
as prayer poured from my eyes.
then, as the blur gave way to sight,
i saw, to my surprise,

he held on tight,
to short hair tight,
to my heart oh! so tight.
my baby's little fingers held me
up with all their might.

they slipped away,
he slept away,
to dreams he tripped away.
and i thanked God for answering
the silly prayers i pray.