Just give me a little hand to hold,
And I'll forget that I'm growing old.
I do not ask for cloudless skies,
A life that's free from tears and sighs.
Just give me a little face to kiss,
And anxious moments will turn to bliss.
For what is there, really, that means so much
As little hands that reach and touch,
As little eyes that search and see
Only the best in fragile me?
So let me grow more loving and wise
By looking at life through their wide eyes.
For through these little ones, you have given
This grateful grandmother,
a glimpse of Heaven.
author: Barbara Burrows