Emma sits at the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap, watching her five-year-old son snuggle beneath a quilt. The gentle hush of nighttime settles in, wrapping them both in a sense of peaceful anticipation.
"Are you ready for your song, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with affection and reassurance. Her son nods sleepily, his eyelids heavy but eager to listen.
[@ch_1_d]"Close your eyes and dream away,
Stars above will softly play,
Moonbeams shine and angels stay,
With you, love, until the day,"[/@ch_1_d] she sings, each word soothing, weaving a tapestry of calm for her son.
[@ch_1_d]"Little birds will softly peep,
Dreams will drift and gently sweep,
In your heart, the peace will keep,
Sleep, my darling, fall asleep,"[/@ch_1_d] her song continues, each verse a promise of safety and wonder.
[@ch_1_d]"Night will guard you, stars will gleam,
Hold you gently in their beam,
Always here, you’re loved, it seems—
Sleep, my child, and find your dream,"[/@ch_1_d] she finishes, her voice fading into the quiet night.
Emma tiptoes from the room, closing the door softly behind her, leaving her son wrapped in the warmth of her song and the promise of sweet dreams.
