Little frail Jimmy in the church each day,

Though ill, for health he would not pray,

Bowing his head he would only say:

“Jesus, Jimmy is here.”

Near to death and around his bed,

His loved ones wept and stroked his head.

Breathing his last, a soft voice said:

“Jimmy, Jesus is here.”


A collection of Short Stories and Poems by Paddy Cummins
Available on Kindle

This Poem is dedicated to little boys with terminal illnesses.