By Vickie Lambdin ©
These are the words of a six year old;
And were mispelled intentionally.
My little boy looked up at me;
With his sad brown eyes,
Said, "momma please call God's angels,
Now, away up in the skies.
Tell them if they see daddy;
That we want him to come home,
Say, we both lub and miss him,
And, that he's been gone too wong.
He said, "momma, I'm awreddy six;
And, next month I'll be seben,
P
lease call all the angels now,
Dad must come home from heaben.
I sure wish that he was here;
To help me celebrake,
So, tell the angels to talk to him,
And please say, "Don't be late!"
I looked at him through tear filled eyes;
Trying, not to sob,
I said, "son your dad can't come home now,
He's up there helping God."
CALLING ALL ANGELS
Written By Vickie Lambdin © 2001
A true poem I wrote about my sons dad: He died when
Brandon was five
song playing 'How Far Is Heaven'