Mama, it's me,
I'm your youngest daughter.
Can't you see that; don't you know
who it is that loves you so?
You ask the others; they tell
you too, that I'm your baby,
I'm your Sue.
Why have you forgotten me?
I'm right beside you; can't you see?
Mama, please look into my eyes,
please know me some.
Please tell me you love me
and that you're glad I've come.

Written October 1994
Copyright © 1994-2002 Brenda Parris Sibley
Published in Waiting for the Morning (Writer's Club Press/iUniverse, 2001)