Creak creak creak, old rocker speaks,
slowly I stroke a silken cheek,
nestled close we quit the day
and boundaries seem to melt away.
This child who fills my heart so full
has late begun to feel the pull
of other things, and other dreams,
so soon, so soon–too soon it seems.
Creak creak creak, old rocker speaks
to tender, melting night,
for now I’ll keep tomorrow out
and hold my wanderer tight.