The Apple Of His Eye Poem by Patricia Kelley

She sits in Heaven's golden swing, swinging.

She has perfect little features, and curly blonde hair.

With Heaven's angels all around singing,

She sits there swinging, with her green eyes clear.

I can see her with her long curly golden hair swaying.

With some angels knelt praying.

While some sing and play, the golden harp,

Next to them is a purple healing herb.

It looks just like lavender.

In a garden filled with a peaceful, tranquil atmosphere.

She's just behind the pearly white gates of Heaven.

She's a perfect touch for Heaven.

She's only seven.

There next to her looks to be a child of eleven.

There sitting next to her in a little golden chair smiling; is a chubby, cherub.

It looks like they're all playing.

There are many angels flying all around them singing praises.

They sing aloud with their voices that graces.

All of those around, and around!

Their echo rings sounds.

Of gladness!

There is no more sadness.

No more innocence turned to ashes.

They're all singing Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna in the Highest!

Praising the God of all Creation!

They're dressed in white robes of innocence for decoration.

By them standing is the radiant Son of God, of all Creation.

His omnipotence reflects, all that fills Heaven.

His voice speaks aloud that children's faces are in the eyes of angels.

They're the apple of His eye the angels sing.


And, whomever, hurts one of these, will surely feel death's sting.