Thursday, 26 September 2013


The little lad born infirm, sadly & crookedly bent,
Within his short little life, he, in a wheelchair spent,
Was unable with other children, to run & joyfully play,
Until that dark night, when God came & took him away.

Arriving in heaven God told him,” Be brave & do not weep,”
“I´m worried about Mama, she thought she had me for keeps,”
God told him to write her a letter & send it into her dreams,
“Miracles work you know laddie, strange as that now seems”.

Dearest Mama don´t weep, I know my life on earth was brief,
I know you cared & loved me dearly, but now I only feel relief,
Now there are no cruel tossed barbs & I feel no wearing pain,
Now I smile warm sunbeams & my only tears are drops of rain.

And look how I can run with Angels, in sweet & flowered fields,
No bent back, no pain & no more need for wheelchair wheels,
But Mama, I´ve not gone far, I´m the breeze upon your cheek,
I´ll be the smile upon your lips, knowing I am no longer weak.

You shall awake from your dreams & know that I was here,
A kiss to puppy, a hug to dad, there´s nothing more to fear,
And although I was too young to go, at barely even eleven,
Mama, just wanted you to know, there are no wheelchairs
Here in heaven.

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