I still sing Perry to sleep often. He loves to be sung to.
When he was a small baby,
I walked up and down the hallway of our new abode,
With the coloured glass sailing boat above the threshold,
And I would sing to my crying baby. And sing.
There was a little plush owl that played a tinkling tune,
The sweet lullaby of childhood music boxes,
(Ballerina on spring)
And I made up words to that refrain.
All of them told my boy that I loved him,
No matter how tired I was.
Later, there was a silver snow dome with a teddy bear,
Wind it up and it played the same notes as the owl,
But this one was inscribed from my grandfather, Papa,
In memory of the grandmother, Mama,
Who never got to hold the babe, in my belly when she died.
You don’t know quite how tender is a lullaby
Until you sing to your child, and every love song is for them.