Dear God,
Mommy's hands are very large
and mine are very small.
The things that Mommy's hands can do
mine can't do at all.
She says when I grow up, though,
my hands will grow with me
then I can do what Mommy does.
Dear God,
grow me, please?
CJ, And she will be blessed to have a mommy teach her. Love your simple approach to a daughter and her mom. Rusty
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh C J...this is so precious...so loving...it is indeed almost a prayer...(for me, anyway...) Just me, Lare