Poems

Honey there will be a hoop, and a hill to roll it down.

God wouldn’t give a little boy the burden of a crown.

He’ll show you lots of trees to climb, and where he keeps his swings

God let him have a bat and ball, instead of shinning wings     

And will he let you sail a kite up where the air is clear

Without tall buildings stooping down

Of course, he will my dear.

Now close your eyes, I will kiss them shut, the way I always do.

I must not, must not cry dear God, I know he’s safe with you.

Author Unknown