Last of carefree days.

Little Hand

You don't know
you're breaking my heart
or how I wish
it could be me instead of you
I sit at the bottom of your bed
and there's nothing I can do
I pray my earnest prayer
for God to let you stay
but know deep inside
he's taking you away

Carefully structured expectations
unspoken hopes and plans entwined
though struck by such a feeble hand
collapse entangled in the mind

This is the last of carefree days
of youthful jest and childlike joy
but captured moments of these and more
this day will not destroy

And the wounded heart will never
let go of this little hand
still reaching where the treasure is
will sojourn only in this land

And the wounded Saviour will never
let go of our grief and pain
God knows we do not understand
it's hard enough to be sane.