The weep of your little girl in me every midnight
the longings she tried to fill with imaginations.
At night, while she’s asleep, it is the hand
she’s yearning to feel gliding on her cheeks
It is the shout of her aching precious heart
the rescue she’s been waiting for
the relief from the heavy grief she’s been carrying
the beauty she wants to grasp
It is the morning sunrise
or after a storm, it is the rainbow in the sky
The cheerful color her eyes wish to witness
the song she wants to hear from your splendid voice.
and the answer to restore the sparkles in her eyes
the ocean, she’s desperate to drown
it is the warmth of your embrace, she calls home.
It is who you are she wants to dwell on
. . . . . . . . .
Your presence is a comfort for me, Jesus.