It's three am, they're all asleep, and no one is here to see.
As we rock slowly back and forth, my baby boy and me.
His little hand is feather light tucked up against my chin.
I hold his tiny hand in mine, and stroke his baby skin.
The house about us creaks and groans, the clock hands creep around.
He snuggles closer to me still, and makes his baby sounds.
I love these quiet hours so much, and cherish every one.
Store memories up inside my heart for lonely nights to come,
All too soon he'll be grown up, his need for Mama gone.
But until then I still have time for kisses and for song.
Time for quiet hours like this with him cuddled in my arms.
Where I wish he'd always stay protected, safe and warm.
And yet I know the day will come when his tiny little hand,
will be bigger than my own. He'll grow to be a man.
But until then he's mine to love with no one here to see.
As we rock slowly back and forth, my baby boy and me.
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