| Copyright, by Joan Clifton Costner |
| I Hafta Go |
| I'm sorry that I hafta go And I thank you for your prayers. But my Father, who lives up above, Needed me up there. And though you were so very sweet, I know you'll understand That hosts of little angels wait For me in Gloryland. I can't see a rain drop Or a cloud up in the sky. I can run, and jump and play; Without a pain or sigh. I hope that I accomplished what Father God sent me to do. I hope you realize I'm His And was only loaned to you. I can't come back again, you know. But you can come to me. Your treasure up in heaven Is a girl that's almost three. So, please remember all the times That filled us all with glee. Make your way sure to heaven - To come and live with me. You can read more of Joan's beautiful poems by clicking on either of these buttons: |
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| Posted here with author's permission. |
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| A Christian Grief Ministry |
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