If only I could remember the things of innocent yester-years
My mother's words, her intuitive way of placing my hand and heart
In the very palm of her child's Creator's
The memories are gone
But the underlying truths persist
Even if buried to my present mind's eye
I wish again my childlike faith
Communion, trust, vision, obedience
Wouldn't I be a fool today
Yet I think I am the fool to have
loosened my grip and shifted my gaze
No measurable gains
Lord, return to me a child's grace
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