He sees the trouble on her face. Today was a hard day for her. He was unaffected by it, thankfully, but he is a little affected when he looks at the lines on her face. The lines that shouldn't be on a face so tiny.
She looks so young. Just like she did in first year. She's just a child, she shouldn't have to suffer, or so she thinks to whatever is out there listening to her; she has nothing but a vague idea of a God, yet she still finds herself praying for something to change. Sometimes she whispers aloud; the words make him tingle.
She dreams of a vague utopia, and one neither of them will ever get.
All she wants is to smile a smile she really means. All she wants is to laugh at something she finds funny. All she wants is to talk to someone about something that really matters to her. All she wants is an end to her pain.
She asks for too much, too much for this world, for her world.
Love one's daughter
Allow me that
And I can't let go of your hand
Lord, can you hear me now?
Lord, can you hear me now?
Lord, can you hear me now?
I'm a bit bemused at the moment.