The little stuffed animal was cradled in my hands,
I gave it to you and read you its name,
'Saint' I said, you smiled at me and me and gave me a hug,
At the time I didn't know cancer was fatal,
I just thought you were really sick,
The lumps on your skin and your bare head were bad but I didn't understand,
I wanted for you to come to my school to hear the poem I wrote for you,
But everyone told me you were too sick,
Then one night when mom went to visit you,
She came back with the little praying bear in her hands,
She put me to bed with the bear in my arms and I cried myself to sleep,
At your funeral everyone read your poem I wrote for you,
They all cried and gave me hugs,
I didn't even know you had so many brothers and sisters,
Grandpa took it the worst,
And he could barely even stand to look at the little bear in my arms,
Later Grandpa gave me a necklace that was yours,I hope you don't mind,
It was in the shape of angel and I wrapped it around Saints neck,
And still to this day when I look at saint and the little angel,
Hanging in between it's furry paws,
I think of you and your wonderful smile.