A beautiful little innocent boy,

Clasps his dying mother's hand.

His sorrow deep, his eyes are wet,

And he can barely stand.

This little boy, no more than six,

Bids his mother wake.

But she is in a fitful sleep

And her dreams she cannot shake.

"I'm sorry mother, dear Mama!

I promise I'll be good!

Please Mama, I need you here!"

He'd help her if he could.

"Please Mama, awake Mama!"

Cries the boy amidst his tears.

"Is it my fault Mama? Was I bad?"

Alone with his questions and fears.

But no matter what he says to her,

No matter how hard he cries,

His mother she will not awake,

Until the moment she gasps and dies.

Alone with his grief, this little boy

Won't let go of his mother's hand -

Her cold dead hand forever in his,

And never again shall this boy stand.

Copyright © 2006 Catriona Elizabeth Mowat