The sickly child lay in bed
His breath was a hoarse rasp
His worried parent felt his head
So hot it made him gasp
They never had an easy time
The mishpacha was quite poor
But though they scrimped for every dime
Between the next world and this one
The gravely ill boy hovered
A new name was added to their son
To keep if he recovered
For days on end the battle raged
The thread of life grew slender
The boy recovered and lived long
Keep your emuna going strong
Was a big part of my life
Though he was never introduced to me
Although life can often be tough
Each neshoma is a gem