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.

Copyright^© Joan Clifton Costner
Submitted by Joyce