Now That Your Shoulders Reach My Shoulder
MY shoulders once were yours for riding.
My feet were yours for walking, wading.
My morning once was yours for taking.
My feet were yours for walking, wading.
My morning once was yours for taking.
Still I can almost feel the pressure
Of your small hands clasping my forehead
While my hands grasped your willing ankles.
Of your small hands clasping my forehead
While my hands grasped your willing ankles.
Now that your shoulders reach my shoulders
What is there left for me to give you?
Where is a weight to lift as welcome?
What is there left for me to give you?
Where is a weight to lift as welcome?
ROBERT FRANCIS