Sleeping on my shoulder

2 o’clock in the morning, just a few hours before the break of dawn. Sleeping has been somewhat of a luxury these days. You wake up, making noises that can only worry us.  I walk over, your hands raising towards me, making an obvious request. I pick you up, gently hold you and put your head on my shoulder. The unrest subsides, gradually drifting off to sleep.  I am tired, but I am happy to be your pillow.