The child is young, and so am I.
She tries so hard just not to cry.
I hold her hand and count to three
As the doctor puts her to sleep.
"The pain will soon be gone," I say,
As we whisk her gurney away.
A few hours later,
We all feel much older.
Her pain is gone, but that's all we knew.
We pray that she will make it through.
A young girl, hurt and scared,
Is one that would make me prepared
For anything that could come round,
A nurse, too fresh, too new to the sound
Of tears and parents desperately praying,
To the sound of the ambulance horn playing,
Hoping to give them lives so long,
That they can always stay holding on.