Dalton, a nine year old young boy,
Was dying from a lung disease.
One last Christmas, what brought him joy,
From close to home, from overseas,
Was getting Christmas cards in piles.
Thousands and thousands of them came,
And once again his face was smiles,
Pursuing record setting aim.
And Dalton asked that cards be sent
To other kids who were in need
Of a pick me up each card meant,
A caring each card guaranteed.
'Come home' to Dalton God did call,
Leaving a Christmas card for all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem