My prayers lie curled within my heart
Like buds too frail to bloom.
I long to give them all to you,
But dare not thus presume.
For some of them are less perfect
Than I know they should be
And I want to refine them some,
So you’ll think well of me.
I know, however poorly formed,
You love each little prayer
And long for me to open up
Allowing you to care.
But still I hide them in my heart
Hoping someday they’ll grow.
I really need your help with them,
But I can’t yet let go
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