Twenty sweet children
Age six and age seven
Have arisen to God
And now live in Heaven.
He'll watch over, protect them
He'll rock them to sleep
He'll comfort and love them
Til their parents they meet.
We have to believe that
They're safe where they are
That they're happy and laughing
Even though they're so far.
Their lives were so precious
So short yet so dear
But now they're with Jesus
And they've no more to fear.
Those twenty small souls
Are now Angels above
Twelve girls and eight boys
Who'll be always remembered
And forever be loved.
Those twenty small souls Are now Angels above.. a sad incident is written poetically to show the kindness in the heart of the poet..
Such a fabulous touchin poem. Yes the lil angels must be havin a far better time than people on earth. But it must be heartbreakin for the parents. Ah the heartrendin tings that unfettered delinquents do becoz of too much parental freedom. Pls review my latest poem, 'selectin relaxation
It's a sweet sentiment. You have a heart of gold Thanks for commenting on my junky work.
A very poignant tribute to those little angels...............a heartbreaking piece indeed..............
No dead person came back to narrate what happened after death. It is better to hope the best. This impressive poem is the only thing that you could do.We have no alternate but to believe in God and to believe in his kindness.Bri Edward while commenting on one of my poems asked me why God did not interfere before a sad incident took place. I had no reply.
William Stafford said several times that he did not want to write good poems - he wanted to write NECESSARY poems. This is a NECESSARY poem you have written. Our basic obligation to the dead is remembrance, which you provide along with the promise of transcendence. I remember an incident in the former Soviet Union - two hostile ethnic groups - children kidnapped and murdered - Mark Shields of the NEWSHOUR said, If you want to see Original Sin, there it is. Amen. R.I.P. Dear children.
Hello Colleen, thank you for this wonderful tribute to those precious families. Such senseless hate! I am always deeply troubled when children suffer at the hands of those put into their lives to love and nurture them., nice work! Loyd
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Til they're parents they meet. OR Till their parents they meet. By the way, the size of a child doesn't mean the size of each soul is small. Consider the soul of the boy David and the soul of the giant Goliath. David is with God, but what of Goliath?