Little Child in Heaven
By Keven Anderson 
For Al Dente, November 9, 1993 
There’s a little child in heaven,
straight from his mother’s womb,
his home is now above the clouds,
for the heavens are his room.
Yet he is with you always,
even though it’s hard to see.
You’ll smell him in the spring flowers,
though you’d swear he cannot be.
Sometimes he will come over you
like a warm blanket from the sky,
you’ll suddenly feel overwhelmed,
you’ll smile and won’t know why.
On earthly winter mornings
when you walk out in the mist,
you’ll find your face is wet
because it was your cheek he kissed.
Sometimes later after sunrise
like the sound of morning doves,
a little child in heaven
sings a song for those he loves.
And in the wind he’ll whisper
as it’s blowing up a breeze,
and then you’ll hear his laughter
in the rustling of the leaves.
You’ll gently comb his silken hair
as your hand brush ‘cross the lawn,
and see the wonder of his smile
in the sunset and the dawn.
You’ll see him running in the wind
which blows through fields of wheat,
to you he’ll run much faster
when in time again you meet.
You’ll sometimes feel his gentle touch
as if it’s even rain,
and receive the love he’s sending
as he tries to ease his pain.
Within the stars, you’ll see his eyes
and within your dreams he’ll play,
for as you often think of him
he will think of you each day.
His blessings come every morning
and again at night be seven,
to those of us who share the love
for our little child in heaven.