Last Gift

Serene in his narrow coffin

The little Father lay.

The church was hushed for a moment;

Then a great throng knelt to pray.

Grave priests and censer-bearers

In the chancel softly trod,

While music and the incense

Rose like a flower to God.

All at once, along the transept,

A little figure sped,

Laid something on the casket,

And then, in a panic, fled.

There on the sombre velvet

Lay an offering, not planned --

A bunch of dandelions,

Warm from the little hand.

A kind priest found the youngster,

Who raised his hanging head.

"He was good to my sick Mamma,

And prayed when she died." he said.

--Charles Ballard -photo by Taci Yuksel