LET ME BE A CHILD
© Martha Miranda 1990

Children don't seem to care
About a summer rain
Or how they will get to buy
A slice of bread again

For Papa's out of work
And Mama's down with flu
And brother has gone off to war
While children run and play

Children cannot bother
With rumors of the end
When all the world will be no more
They cannot comprehend

And children run out into the rain
With lightning thundering down
Jumping and splashing in all the puddles
Like foolish little clowns

They say please Mama don't you cry
I'll get you well somehow
And Daddy will come home with some work
And brother will not die

But one by one as days go by
The earth opens up her mouth
And cradles them within herself
And loves them while they die

Taking care to hide within
Each tender fragile soul
Until the Angel calls their names
And they will be made whole

Children don't seem to care
About the summer rain
Or how they will get to buy
A slice of bread again

For they just seem to know
Someday in time, somehow
The Angel of the promise
Will come in the summer clouds

And so they run outside to play
Without a thought of pain
Looking for that promised face
In every drop of rain

O let me be a little child
That runs out in the rain
Listening for the lightning crack
That ends the world of pain

O let me see the little child
In every drop of rain
Like teardrops falling from the sky
Until He comes again!

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