Poetry

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Hand in hand looking after you.

Heart on my shoulders but no care within.

Embarrassed by all my short comings, but no fault is in your eyes.

Eyes tearing, sweat gathering on my fingertips...

blood rushing to my heart, every once of me joyful

but foolish footsteps trip me up along the way, ripping my hand from you.

On my face in a puddle of my own mud, throwing a pity party for all who pass.

Your hands reach within me, lifting me up from the decaying mud.

With my hands full of dirt & my eyes seemingly lost, you hold me close.

Your eyes burn like fire, cleaning my mind

Your hand begins to reach for my own

But quicky I try to wipe away the mud on my own...

each attempt seems to bring more flith upon me...

I look up confused & unwanting... you smile knowing & loving... and remind me as usually it seems who is God...

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