The Letter:

Miss Marigold passed today
After eighty some odd years,
Her rooms is being cleared
By the last few volunteers.

Her sheets and her pillows
Are all being packed away,
Her room is almost empty
Only her bed still remains.

In a dirty cardboard box
Underneath that bed,
Was a handwritten letter
This is what it said.

Dear Jesus:
My name is Marigold,
I live in a foster home
And I'm eight years old.

On the day I was born
My daddy left home,
So me and mommy
Was left there all alone.

My mommy couldn't work
Or barely care for me,
She had a bad heart
That made her fatigue.

At first it was hard
For us both to get by,
But mommy did her best
With me by her side.

There were some days
Mommy didn't have her pills,
Cause they were expensive
And mommy had other bills.

So somedays were worse
Than the days before,
Cause mommy stayed sick
And we were so very poor.

On my sixth birthday
A woman in a truck,
Came to my mommy's house
And packed up all my stuff.

They took me from mommy
And changed my last name,
I finally had my own room
But it didn't take away the pain.

Everyday I miss my mommy
And I cry for her too,
Because of her sickness
And all that shes been through.

One year ago today
My mommy passed away,
When I found it out
It made me so afraid.

Now all I have left
Are a few pictures of her,
Because I was so young
Some memories are a blur.

So Jesus please
Jesus if you would,
Give her this message
Jesus if you could.

Could you tell my mommy
Up there in the sky,
Tell her I Love Her
And I'll see her when I die.