Job Well Done Poem by NEDRA WILSON

Momma, when you died I ask God 'Why'
He answered me quickly 'HER JOB IS DONE'
I started to cry pleading out to God
'That's my mother and I love her dearly'.
God simply whispered close to my ear
'That's my child and I love her Dearer'.
I didn't give up momma I CRIED out more
'I want to make her happy in life
and give her things that's nice'.
I heard a strong voice right close
to my ear no whisper just clear.
'I HAVE HER JUST REWARD'
I understood momma then and there
that there's nothing on earth
good enough for you here.

Dedicated To: Daphne Mason Wilson