I have never met you Megan and it's unlikely that I will
As you live in Mordialloc and I at Clifton Hill
But I know a bit about you going by what your mother say
You are active for an eight year old no rest for mum all day.
I have never asked your mother what colour shade your hair
Or if your eyes be blue or brown of such facts I'm not aware
But I know you must look pretty, you'd have to be 'twould seem
Just from looking at your mother the beautiful Christine.
I've been told you have a handicap if there is such a thing
But you live near to heaven's gate where joyful angels sing
You will always have your innocence you will always be a child
A sunlit rose of summer by elements unspoiled.
You'll never suffer from depression or prolonged misery
Or be burdened by life's problems of such weights you feel free
Wish I were like you Megan but 'twas not meant to be
As I feel crippled by the handicap of hyper sensitivity.
I have never met you Megan and shook your tiny hand
But I know what you must be like and I can understand
One day you'll be an angel and sing your song of joy
In blissful Land of happiness beyond the starry sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem