That fragile cry
Those tiny hands
Such a small body, such big pain.
That tiny heart that pumps much too hard,
That tiny heart was pierced much too young.
So close to death,
So close to life,
So in between,
It isn’t right.
Will they hear the pitter-patter
of little feet running?
Will they hear the softest of cries
so early in the morning?
Will she grow and become strong?
Will she go, and leave us so young?
Too young to fight,
Too young to give up,
Too young to die,
Too young to live.
Little Abigail, close your eyes
you will not have to fight.
Mommy has you in her hands
everything will be alright.
Grow big and strong in the Lord
for you are meant for so much more.
Little Abigail, close your eyes, and sleep.
From you I want to hear not a peep.
Rest now and later we shall see.
The running, the growing, of your little feet.
Abigail Madison Elise Nevitt,
AMEN is cried out for you.
AMEN, the name given to you.
Borne on Good Friday,
she came home on Easter.
God bless that little heart,
she was blessed from the very start.
A story about my baby sister.
