When The Sun Goes Down Poem by Liz Oates

Momma says God'll build us a house
and it'll be made of gold
and the windows'll be spun from diamonds
and its walls'll never fold.

It'll shine on a clear horizon-
the kinda place you'd think the sky's in
and we'll have pretty white curtains that let the sun through.
She says, 'Baby, I ain't cryin' and I don't want you to.'

Momma holds me close when the sun goes down
and talks 'bout our house like it's already done.
I've asked her if we can go stay there awhile
but she says the buildin' ain't even begun.

It'll shine on a clear horizon-
the kinda place you'd think the sky's in
and we'll have pretty white curtains to let the sun through.
She says, 'Baby, I ain't cryin' and I don't want you to.'