Heaven shines from up above,
Sending messages down with love.
They give us gifts of tender sight,
Some fighting death with all their might.
These gifts we call our precious children,
For which we thank God for every day.
So innocent and meek,
So strong but yet so weak.
A drift of sunbeam shining down,
Uproots a smile from a frown.
Some of their worlds tear them up inside,
So many rules in life to which they abide.
Soft whispers to them God shares,
Drive away scary nightmares.
Some lose precious battles,
The lives on Earth it rattles.
These we call our Angels in heaven.
Some win the taunting fight,
Which to lives brings cherished light.
These we call our Angels on Earth.
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