Job Well Done

Job Well Done Momma, when you died I ask God 'Why' He answered me quickly 'HER JOB IS DONE' I started to cry pleading out to God 'That's my mother and I love her Dearly'. God simply wispered close to my ear 'That's my child and I love her Dearer'. I did'nt give up moma I CRIED out more 'I want to make her happy in life and give her things that's nice'. I heard a strong voice right close to My ear no wisper just clear. 'I HAVE HER JUST REWARD' I understood momma than and there that there's nothing on earth good enough for you here. By: Nedra Wilson {NOLA Poet}