The hand flops limp in an abandoned sprawl
As the mother shifts the baby to its bed
A brief moment of wakefulness and it seeks around
And touches the soft fabric of mom’s shirt
Clutching that precious bit of mom
Reassured, falls limp again
As only one with a full stomach and dry bottom can
When he has spent his waking moments striving to be his best
An enterprising baby is now a satisfied baby
And heads off into whatever baby dream worlds exist