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}
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