Are there armchairs in Heaven
where little infants go?
Do the blessed messengers hold you intently
also, shake you back and forth?
Do they talk senseless infant talk
to get a grin or two,
what's more, sing the tired cradlesongs
I used to sing to you?
My heart is throbbing for you,
my heavenly attendant kid so dear.
You brought such bliss into my life,
the brief timeframe you were here.
I know you're in an upbeat place,
what's more, in God's adoring consideration.
I dream every night I'm shaking you
in Heaven's armchair.