I want to hold you. Put my arms around you and squeeze tight for a moment.
I want to kiss your forehead and tell you, "It's gonna be alright."
I want to cook your dinner and tell you, "You are loved."
Oh friend(s),
would that my arms were long enough
to reach across the miles!
Would that I had seven-league boots!
I'd be there in a minute to
hold the baby when he cries
or
hold you when you cry
or
simply do the dishes.
You carry my heart in
Texas,
Carolina,
Michigan,
Georgia,
Paris,
and Kentucky (to name a few),
and I carry yours.
As yours hurts,
mine hurts.
It is so hard to be far away while you hurt.
