I climbed up a mountain
and peeked through God’s door.
Little ones flourished
by angels nourished
until they, on their own, can fly.
The streets there are golden,
the gates are of pearl.
Angels flocked . . . singing,
children were smiling,
and nobody there would e’er die.
Tears sadly fell, I cried . . .
aching for that side.
Extending His hand
He made no demand
but parted the clouds in the sky.
He said I couldn’t stay
but they welcomed a peek.
I’ll climb someday soon
and they will make room,
my duty--to try--till I fly.