Hush Little Baby

She would write a letter to him every week, which is exactly what she had sat down to do when there was a knock at the door. She got up and brushed the wrinkles from her dress, and pulled her fading golden hair behind her ear. She opened the door and found a short elderly man. In his hand he was holding an envelope, a message. Is it bad news? She asked as he handed her the letter. His face was expressionless, he said nothing. Then he was gone.

She opened the letter and read it. She stood there puzzled, with an expression to match. Then she began to scream, that's all she could do. The neighbor ran over from next door, and found her still in the doorway on the floor, clutching the letter tightly in one hand, in her other rested her forehead, her head ringing from the pain. My baby! my baby! she sobbed. And for the first time in her life she was at a loss for words. She could never describe the feeling that came over her at that moment, nothing could have ever prepared her for it. She got up. She went to the table where she had been sitting writing her letter, before the man came. She sat back down and finished writing.

She always prayed to the LORD to keep him out of harms way, and to bring him home safe. And if he never did make it home, she prayed for the strength to carry on. It didn't matter. He was gone.

Been going with the cloud thing lately. I could use some art supplies.