Children

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There are so many pockets, God,
Within this heart of mine.
A pocket for near everything.
A place for You to shine.

One pocket where You set the sea –
An ocean filled with grace
Where every wave that finds the shore
Shines back to me Your face.

One pocket made where birds can sing
And store for me each song.
I love to fill that pocket up
And sometimes sing along.

There is one pocket, oh so small
Where sometimes I like to crawl.
A special place of hiding
Where I can’t be seen at all.

And, God, I love that pocket,
Where my family gets to ride.
Where they are always with me
Held tightly by my side.

But, God, there is that pocket,
Made especially for You
When life gets oh so busy
And my friends, they’re oh so few.

A pocket that I love to fill
That only You can see
The pocket where I store Your love
Sent specially to me.




© DeAnna Brooks
November 2004

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