Sweeter than a flower special as could be
A little girl softly asleep
Kneeling in prayer singing a tune
Beautiful young one baby girl
See her face glowing
Know that she's going to a better place
Surrounded by angels
Near the pearly gates
Safely in the sacred arms
Looking up at Jesus face
Sweeter than a flower
Special as could be
A little girl softly asleep
Close your eyes right now
See her going
To a better place
Your little baby girl
Copyright © amie scheitel
The Romantic Legend
The lord of the manor near the coast of Algarve,
Behind the manor a forested valley where
Packs of frightful wolves roamed.
A day when his youngest daughter who was a bit
Odd-as she took no interest in suitors- went to
The glade to pick flowers, she met a he wolf.
Not afraid she petted the good animal and his
Eyes she discovered love that asked for nothing
And had nothing to give but love itself.
The daughter when doing needle work had stung
Herself and there was a drop of blood on her
Index finger, which the wolf lovingly licked away.
A miracle happen the girl turned into a sleek,
Wonderful she wolf with silky black and tan fur.
Their union was complete and love rewarded.
The pair found a cave in the deepest forest
Where they lived happily for many years until
The he wolf was killed by a bigger animal.
The spell was broken and she was now an old
woman, alone and scared, where love´s light
had shone there was fearful darkness.
There was a knock on the manor´s oak door,
An elderly woman claimed she was the daughter
Of the house but, she was not believed.
It was a rainy night and when the door opened
Next morning the servants found a young girl
With glade flowers in her folded dead hands.
What sorrow, what grief, but she wore a smile
“Vale de lobo” the forest doesn´t exist anymore
And a paradise of love is lost to a legend.
PS “Lobo” wolf.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen
A little girl so coy and sweet
Used to wander in the street
Her little dress and shawl she’d wear
She’d skip and run without a care
Her hair about her face would fly
As wind blew clouds across the sky
The sun would shine above the city
Warm upon her face so pretty
There with friends she’d sing a song
A ring-of-roses all day long
Her doll she’d carry everywhere
Made by her mam who'd brought her there
Where had she gone, where was she now;
To give her comfort, to cool her brow?
Lying there upon her stretcher
Desperate for mam to come and fetch her
With pustules oozing, a putrid stink
In inky blackness her eyes would blink
She waited for the sound of feet
Perhaps dry, stale bread for her to eat
Shoved below the heavy door
On a plate, upon the floor
But she’d become too weak to stand
To get the food she’d need a hand
Fear of illness, fear of death
Fear of such a young ones breath
Prevented them from coming in
Barred her from seeing friend or kin
Stuffy and close the room was small
No one seemed to care at all
Her doll they’d wrenched out of her arms
And burned it to avail their qualms
No traces of disease would spread
Remaining sealed away instead
She longed again the world to see,
She lay there waiting patiently
She thought for her they’d surely come
Her father a merry tune would hum
Drifting in and out of sleep
No more tears of loneliness to weep
Nothing but a feeble moan
For she was left there all alone
Below the new you’ll find a room
Timeworn and hidden in the gloom
It’s there you’ll feel her presence nigh
It’s there she lay abandoned to die
When you have to leave and go
Quiet footsteps behind you tiptoe
She follows you a little way
She waits for you to turn and say,
“Take my hand and come with me.
Into the light… walk, be free.”
But solitary and confined she’s made to stay
As aeons pass and flit away
Forsaken child of the distant past,
I pray God frees your soul at last.
Copyright © Eleanor Fox
Daddy's Little Girl
Near twenty-seven years since he has passed,
Not a day goes by he does not enter my thoughts.
No presence of knowledge this time might be the last,
Our final words were an argument that I've since forgot.
Only a few short days after we disagreed,
My headstrong ways came honestly from dad.
I noticed one morning his right ear did bleed,
He said, "Don't worry sweetheart, it's nothing bad".
Myself I blamed for the longest time,
Re-assurance came from many others.
Was an old war wound that stole his mind,
Is what the doctors told us and our mother.
Seeking comfort in church for the feelings of guilt,
Always remembering that heated moment of shame.
The bond between us that took years to be built,
The stroke he suffered, I assumed all the blame.
Months passed by and more strokes to come,
Whispered words in his absent ears how sorry I was.
Did he hear me say "I'm sorry"..just maybe one?
I sadly doubt he heard my words of sorrowful love.
Before I knew it, the good Lord took him away,
When he was gone, my mind was in a whirl.
As I sit here and write and even to this very day,
I have faith he knows, I'm forever "daddy's little girl".
Copyright © Maggie Mae McAfee
Her words had meant a thousand meanings but still i felt no self healing
for i had hurt her, done her wrong, called her a slave and nothing beyond
she was african but i be white, does that make us different
to see through the eyes of life and feel the nature hell bent
So many days had i been white, to insult the african woman who worked so hard
her skin, dry from the planting seasons, her hair so ratted from the water loss outside
but that same night i had called her worthless and slave she bowed her head
and i as well for it was her last wish, and that made it sacred
"Dear Lord" she said as she began her prayer and her eyes filled with tears
her silent stature, blissed with love and pure confinement, shone though
she was african but i be white, does that make us not afraid to die
to fear the darkness of the night and worship all who makes light no questions no why
"May all who recieve thy lord's love, cry to the bloodshed moon
for if man and woman be forgotten the balance of evil and good
will perish and i have seen this for my eyes turned blind by work
but here i sit with the same girl who did so and wish her no harm"
To stand up felt wrong but as she did so i followed out into the pasture
looking about i noticed the cows this african had milked 'um so many
but she was confident and bent down to the dirt that had one blue rose
i bent also not knowing if what i did was because i felt anything that arose
"And dear lord let her memories have soem of my son's
let the very feet he walked with be hers for i know they were strong
fast and smart he was but none know of he except me
but this girl right here will now know of his eternity"
And with that silent prayer sent to the heavens, i too began to cry
our shoulders shaked and our heads bobbed as the night engulfed us once more
she be african but i be white, does that make us sisters
yes, for we have both suffered and lost, loved and cherished, stood and cowered, worked till
death with blisters
Copyright © Faire Lucas
Don’t cry my very own little ones
I assure you I’ll be alright
For tonight I’m gone to visit Jesus
For Upon you I shall shine a light
Maybe within the big bright sun
Or maybe the twinkling of a star
But may you find the comfort in light
Of knowing from you I’m never far.
I’m on the glistening green grass
Within the bright morning dew
I’m in the warm breeze a blowing
Blowing my kisses right to you.
I’m in the soft gentle rain
That falls upon your face
I’m in those pure white blankets of snow
Holding you in my embrace.
I’m in the moon that shines so bright
On your darkest nights
I’m always in that great big blue sky
To show you your guiding light.
So never feel you are all alone
Or you never have a friend
Because I’ll always be right beside you
From now and all throughout the end.
I’m everywhere you go
And in everything you do
I’m in your heart and in your soul
For my love will always follows you.
The little girl watched with boundless tears
As her angel slowly faded away
“Merry Christmas Momma,” the little girl said
“I’ll see you on Christmas day.”
Copyright © lois dubree
She is sitting on the end of her bed,
her head is in her hands.
The tears fall from her face.
She thinks to herself what could have i done to deserved this?
Her phone rings,
its a text message from her.
It takes all she has to read it.
"I found another girl to love and i hope you can get over me"
Is what she reads.
The words cut her deeper.
She runs to the bathroom grabs the blade.
As she is about to cut her writs the door opens,
its her mom.
She grabs the blade from her hand and throws it.
She grabs her little girl and begins to hug her and cries.
She asked what has come to this?
Her little girl answers and says When hasn't it came to this?
-cheyenne Lynn carr
Copyright © cheyenne carr