She grasped my finger, Father.
She wrapped her tiny hand around it,
Her fingers barely reaching half way;
Then she held on
with a grip that belied her size.
It is ironic,
Because I am wrapped
around her little finger.
She has captured me,
Shackled my heart to hers.
You too have captured me, Father,
Shackled my heart to yours.
Keep me holding on.
Hold on to what is good. (1 Thessalonians 5: 21, NIV)