The sun was shining in your hair
I hope we don’t grow up too soon
Some say we should but I don’t care
I like things just the way they stand
The world is simple and it’s ours
I’m in no rush to understand
The slow procession of the hours
You held my hand this afternoon
Now I’m not wary anymore
I’m turning six in early June
And you, good grief, you’re nearly four
The sands of time create a chain
That lasts forever, grain by grain