The years are dancing;
When my feet skipped and ran,
They moved so slowly and paused,
Moved on—too slow.
And, now, when feet sometimes drag
By end of day,
The years rush on, hurtling forward;
So many plans and dreams
And tasks undone are left.
All right, days and years, dance
And leap and hurtle on!
The hands that hold the years hold me
And those I love, and tasks and plans and dreams
Are in His Hands as well.
©2010 Carol Morfitt