If, in Death, a child precedes us--
leaving hearts blue, sobbing and empty--
find comfort by letting them lead.
They will be mindful of our needs,
full of our love, when they’re called home.
Reach out and take their little hand,
they’ll help us to live, understand.
All life has a season to be.
Love blinds us and we cannot see
that life's a precious gift . . . on loan.
Angelic fairies, streaking, fly
wearing broad smiles . . . never to die.
They’re turning our tears into rain.
Some souls fail to cry . . . too much pain
but hard hearts break when they are stone.
Let the little children lead us
as sweet angels. In God do trust.
Even aborted babies fly
(they may wonder but don’t ask why
God’s ‘gift’ is someone we’d disown).
Like multi-faceted diamonds, gems,
they twinkle on their slightest whims.
They’ve something for humanity . . .
teach us sincere humility.
In heaven, everyone is home.
If, in death, love one’s precede us
keep believing . . . for God is just . . .
and let the little children lead.