Taryn D
Splinters
How can it be
that you have more
thoughts about me
in a day
than there are
grains of sand?
Such a tragedy
that the branch
you hand my thoughts
to alight on yours
too rarely lands
The days in which I stand
I find your hand
your hand
your hand
that feeds and
mends my splinters
so that I fly
where I once ran
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How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them,
Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. Psalm 138:17