you held in brokeness
preamble of
"i love you,
i love you,
i love you."
his childlike heart
in a wounded man's body
hand in mine to the tune
of, "Oh How He Loves"
not from him
nor from me
but yours
the one
who holds
unconditionally
"He is my FatherI do not wonderIf His plans for me are goodIf He'll come through like He shouldCause He is provisionAnd enough wisdomTo usher in my brightest daysTo turn my mourning into praise"
~Kristene Dimarco