Riddonkulous

I hold what is precious when it cannot stand And gently protect it with a careful hand I rock with a rhythm both quiet and slow While those in my keeping drift off below I have carried the young through the earliest days And watched little eyes close while I gently sway I need no voice to offer comfort or care Yet somehow I promise that safety is there I may be made of wood or woven with thread And sometimes I stand beside someone's bed Long before footsteps and journeys begin I am where a new chapter quietly starts within What am I