Little Matthew's Hand is in Mine

I like the way
That Matthew's little hand
Fits inside of mine
When I walk him to the bus.

I like to know
That when he goes home
In a few hours his older brother will be there.

And I like to think
About him sitting
Infront of a piano
Playing until his fingers grow tired.

And I like to know
That I love him so
And I hope he likes me back.

Because unrequited love
Is no gift from above
And I've waited three years far too long.

But then I sigh
It brings a tear to my eye
Whenever he is not there.

How can I be so devoted?

Well, I know how
And something about him
Makes me feel attracted.

And I love the way it feels
When he shakes his hand with mine.

But nothing can replace
The feeling I get
When little Matthew's hand is in mine.