Lydia my child,
Your smile was so bright,
I would wake up in the morning and know things were alright.
You would swing on the swing,
And go play with your things,
And the birdies would sing, as mommy would bring.
But then one night,
January 9th,
Your death had arrived at the stroke of midnight.
I bowed down and cried,
As they took you outside,
And everything went white,
When you were out of my sight.
I was dressed up in black,
Lookin like Ms. Mary Mack,
With a tissue in hand,
As the preacher put up his hand.
We prayed and prayed,
As the angles sung away,
When I counted to three,
You were buried down deep,
Into the soil of god,
I knew you were gone.
But you were safe,
Which made things okay,
Cause I would always remember and love the smile of Lydia Dagon anyways.
This is a poem about how mothers have a child that means so much to them and sometimes the ones you love pass away but deep down in your heart they will always remain. (Copy right)