The Little Wooden Cross Poem by Marsha Youree

I went to visit my mom today
Glancing at the stones along the way,
That's when I saw it, that pitiful little cross
Splintered and all fading away.


With flowers in my hand, to put on mom's grave,
Today, nothing could go wrong
Then I noticed, lying there all alone,
Was a cross that just did not belong.


The date on the back confirmed my thoughts
of something I already thought true,
A small child lay beneath that pitiful little cross
The color of what used to be blue.


What selfish parents, they must have been
This child lies here all alone,
Without any flowers, no marker to see
Not even a simple little headstone.


I went over and took a closer look
The words were fading away,
And what I read on that little cross
Changed my life forever that day.


This cross isn't grand but it was made by my hands
So you'll know, son, How much I miss you and care,
I painted it blue, to remind me of you
And carved this gold star, the color of your hair.


It was you whom God chose for that Heavenly Home
Your young life here on earth, has come to an end,
I'm left all alone, without you, I won't have a home
Just a small grave that's to painful to tend.


Tears streamed down my face as I looked around
At the monuments that little cross put to shame,
I somehow could feel the loss of this mother
That brought her such misery and pain.


Of all those monuments, some over 6 feet tall
Suddenly seemed so small in a way
The little wooden cross, made with such love,
And the flowers I laid with it that day.


Marsha Youree c 2001