Lying, sleeping on the couch.
Arms outstretched, he has no cares, tumbling blonde curly hair
A whirlwind by day, he is no slouch, for that I can truly vouch.

My grandson not yet turned two.
The apple of his grandads eye.
He will awake again in a few, so much to see and do.
Once awake he will run and fly our precious little butterfly.