When God calls little children
to dwell with him above,
We mortals sometimes question
the wisdom of his love.
For no heartache compares with
the death of one small child
Who does so much to make our world
seem wonderful and mild.
Perhaps God tires of calling
the aged to His fold,
So He picks a rosebud
before it can grow old.
God knows how much we need them,
and so He takes but few
To make the land of Heaven
more beautiful to view.
Believing this is difficult
still somehow we must try,
The saddest word mankind knows
will always be "Goodbye."
So when a little child departs,
we who are left behind
Must realize God loves children,
Angels are hard to find.
When you come into my garden
You'll see the flowers there
And yes I'm very proud of them
My roses are most fair.
They grow so wild and beautiful
Sending perfume to the skies
I know you'll think them lovely
I'll hear envy in your sighs.
And if I didn't tell you
You would never know
Of another rosebush I once had
And how I watched it grow.
So strong it was and promising
I knew before too long
I'd have a lovely show of blooms
But I was proven wrong.
The day I waited for arrived
I saw it shining there
A single perfect rosebud
On my bush that once was bare.
What color would the flower be
When I gazed upon its face
I pictured it with ribbons
Surrounded by some lace.
I couldn't wait to see it
I was hoping eagerly
For a bouquet full of flowers
But it was not to be.
My rosebud never opened up
It clenched its petals tight.
I'll never share its sweet perfume
Or see its colors bright.
I don't know why it happened
I guess I never will
There's a space now in my garden
You can't see, but I can't fill.
Friend, admire all my roses
But in your heart please leave some room
For my much-loved little flower
The bud that didn't bloom.
@-->-- The above poem was used with permission..@}->--- Visit Hannah's memorial at:
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