Their Little Girl
She waved her tiny hand that day,
and went outside to play.
As darkness came and chill set in,
they could not hear her footsteps say
I'm home again please let me in.
They waited till the morn that May.
that sad and lonely day.
No sign of that loved little girl,
with face so full of joy so gay
with hair a mass of golden curl.
The days went on, the weeks as well
someone must know and tell,
where she had gone and why.
Where was she now, their Annabelle.
They could not even grieve or cry.
More time went past, not one small clue,
knocking, loud, as it grew
'Is this your girl? ' he said to them.
They froze, so still, and then they knew.
Their faces sad and solemn.