Littlest Angel

Walking to the bedroom, I saw her kneel to pray; as I got closer, this is what I heard her say.
"Dearest Mother Mary, I hope you understand, This littlest of angels, with a crayon in my hand.
It's hard to write the message, but it's etched deep in my heart. Why did my parents leave me, why did they have to part?
It seemed they were so happy, the day that I came home. Everyone would hold me, I was never left alone.
All those things have changed now; it seems I'm in the way. No one wants to hold me, and no one wants to play.
Before I get much older, there is something you can do. Find someone to love me, or take me home with you."
I stood there stunned, with tears in my eyes. I cried out in silence as I looked up to the skies.
Dearest Mother Mary, I hope you understand, This littlest of angels with a crayon in its hand.

by Carlos P. Martinez

Other poems of CARLOS P. MARTINEZ (2)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.