Poem December 22, 1986 Issue

Holding hands

David Littlefield Horn

"Hold my hand," said Daddy
as he and daughter crossed a brook
on wet and slippery stones.

"That won't work!" she answered,
"because I'm small and might forget
and let you go.

"You hold mine instead," she reasoned,
"because you're big and never forget."

Let's cross our brooks,
not holding on for dear life
but reasoning correctly.
Dear Life is holding on to us.

David Littlefield Horn

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE

Article

The singing prayer

December 22, 1986

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit