Holding My Hand

Hold my hand
When we cross
The street

We do it
For safety
And security

And we do
It for comfort
And affection

As children grow
Hands begin
To stay busy
Or in pockets

“I’m big now”
No need to hold
Hands to cross
The street

But old habits
Are slow to die

I remember still
That time and place
When my daughter
Elizabeth last reached
Spontaneously for
My hand

It is a moment
I treasure

The last time
She held my hand