Through the cot bars.

Here I am again, my love, on my knees beside your bed. One hand through the cot bars as I stroke your sleepy head.

The monitor is casting a soft and sleepy glow. One last pat of your blonde little head and off to sleep you go.

Your room has become a battlefield, although it sounds surreal. My foe, your sleep and safety and every night i kneel.

It’s hard, my love and I hope you know we always try our best. The prayers go through the cot bars as I ask God do the rest.

I ask him every evening to help you sleep to the morning light. I ask him to help us raise you to always do what’s right.

It’s our hope that one day you will pray and with all your might endeavour. Asking God God to be your saviour and follow him forever.

We wonder how to raise you, my love, in a world full of evil and fear. But our prayers through the cot bars are that God will hold you dear.

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