When I was a little girl
Daddy played guitar
sang off-key
to me, he was a star.
He’d sing
Mary Don’t you Weep
There’s an Unclouded Day
Be Careful of the Stones You Throw
and Jesus is the Way.
But my favorite song of the hour
was when he’d sing
The Wildwood Flower.
Then he’d stop and say,
“You’re my wildwood flower
bloom where God plans
I’ll be watching over you
but our lives-
are in His hands.”
Years came and went
my little girl days were spent
roaming woods
skipping rocks
climbing trees.
There never was a time
I wasn’t free.
I suppose we don’t know
what we’ve got until it’s gone.
We forget life is as fragile as a weed
I held my daddy’s hand
as I squatted on my knees
The man who sang to me
was a flower all along.
For as long as I live
I’ll be listening to his songs,
Mary Don’t you Weep and
There’s an Unclouded Day
Be Careful of the Stones you Throw
And Jesus is the Way.
But my favorite song of the hour
Was when he’d sing
The Wildwood Flower
Then he’d stop and say,
“You’re my wildwood flower
blooming where God plans
I’m always watching you
but our lives-
are in God’s hands
