A spirit child,
half-human.
He is God's own next-of-kin
And he's crying for his mama

He don't like his mortal skin

He is asking all his questions
But his mama doesn't know

It's a funny kind of playground
Is there nowhere else to go?

And he knows that he can fly
Safely soar without his wings
'Cause his home is in the sky

While his mama softly sings

Gini Schmitz *


Thank you so much,
Gini, for giving me the permission
to put your poem on my site!