Each Sunday I would go to church. <br />I found it hard to pray, <br />I'd sit and wonder why the Lord <br />Had taken him away. <br /> <br />I'd hear them singing loud in praise, <br />Their faces lit with joy, <br />But only saw the vacant space <br />Once filled by my young boy. <br /> <br />And then one Sunday, somebody <br />Said softly in my ear, <br />'I know that you can't see him <br />But your little boy is here'. <br /> <br />I wasn't shocked, I didn't scorn, <br />Surprised I was, but knew <br />Those words had come from heaven <br />And that, somehow, they were true <br /> <br />And as I listened and I looked <br />At that so vacant space, <br />A shaft of light brought into sight <br />A so familiar face. <br /> <br />I thanked the Lord, how could I think <br />A soul he could destroy? <br />Each Sunday now I go to church <br />And see my choir boy.<br /><br />Terry Donovan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-little-choir-boy/
