I'm tired of holding tightly,
My arms are weak from pain.
Control I have, though little that,
Leaves nothing left to gain.
I trust you, Lord, to break my fall,
To catch me in your arm-
And when I face my deepest fears,
You'll keep me safe from harm.
So vast the fog grey sky expands,
So fresh the evening breeze.
Can they be, Lord, a special gift,
A trust you've placed in me?
-Lydia Joy Serafino-
10/25/2012
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