The smart, the bright.
The lovely, the fair.
We have and hold
And love them so dear.
And then we lose them.
But when their purpose
Is ended here,
They’re borne by the angels;
No need to fear.
They return to God
As an angel themselves.
It reminds me of Santa’s
Good-natured elves.
Always, it’s tough when kids leave;
The heart pines, aches and grieves.
But remember (teen, preemie, or tod)
The little children belong to God.
They’re in the arms of God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem, like it, a great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Human right.