Grace

Written by: Christopher Steven Coan

Daughter spring, rise, awake
Raise your sleepy head
Touch the world of angels wings
Sew a golden thread
In your wake lies not a trace
"Grace" we call you, dear
Yet I have found your precious walk
Your light has drawn me here
Sweetest daughter of the light
May I hold your hand
How I cherish such pure eyes
Your hair --the golden sand
Take me back to sweeter days
Dearest little girl
Teach me how to dance as you
I love to watch you twirl

Rest your eyes now, lay your head
Upon my beating chest
Listen to its loving strength 
I will give you rest