Don’t you know, little infant, As you push away that bottle, That this one ounce of milk (That you’re reluctant to finish) And the need to get it into you… Is the reason I’m here, Halfway around the world? Caring for you is… This tiny bit of milk, Washing bottles, wiping your tiny, Dimpled bottom, and changing your nappy. Bathing and then massaging you, And hearing you chortle with delight. It’s also watching you, as you sleep, With your pudgy little arms Slowly coming down to rest After flying up when you get disturbed. It’s my delight when you begin to coo; It’s my wondering when you will begin To turn over, instead of lying, curled With your tiny frog-legs up in the air. My home may be far away: But my heart is here, with you, In your soft skin, and your toothless smile.