Tuesday, January 15, 2013

She Held Him.

She Held Him.




Oh Julia, poor Julia,
troubled by the hand of fate,
setting out quickly,
forgotten to close the gate.
thoughts awry, haste not hate,
never more shall she be late.

A boy she held,
many times in her arms,
a smiling son, a fonder one,
but she cannot hear his psalms.
He sang of her so many ways,
until he joined her at the gates.

Oh Julia, poor Julia,
a life short and sweet,
so much yet to give and share,
flame red hair and tiny feet.
And in her arms protected all,
became a legend who once was small...