Tugging at my hand, she skips.
Avoiding cracks only she can see.
My destination is in a different direction, we begin to separate.
My grip is not strong enough,
she is dragged another way.
God, architect of all things,
let my girl tug me again,
and I will follow.
Follow her to the ends of this earth.
For your earthly creations
are best described by the innocents,
and I need to see the beauty again.
No comments:
Post a Comment