You sit by his bedside
And read him to sleep
You kiss him goodnight
And let him count sheep
You tidy his room
And fold up his clothes
You tip-toe to bed
And count your own woes
The evening darkens deeply
The shooting star
That shines
Above
You do these things so freely
As they reflect your own true love
You wake him at dawn
And brush his blonde hair
You wash his small face
And see him downstairs
You watch as he eats
And check his school bag
You put on his coat
And write on his name tag
The morning lightens meekly
The pale sun
That shines
Above
You do these things so freely
As they reflect your own true love
You stand by the school gate
And hear the bell ring
He rushes to meet you
And you hear the birds sing
He walks by your side
And talks of his day
He looks up and smiles
And wants so to play
The afternoon brightens sweetly
The golden sun
Descends
Above
You do these things so freely
As they reflect your own true love