The angels wept early this morn.
Not for the boy, not for the life of a dozen years.
For he laughs and is merry in his gentleman's heaven, in his little boy's
paradise.

Angel's teardrops fell from the sky, their gowns formed clouds that darken
the earth.
Their sobs and moans carry gently on the wind, though inaudible, the
presence is felt.
In turn, they call out our names, for we are the ones left behind.
We have been chosen to let go.
Gingerly, they lift the boy from his ..
He slumbers peacefully in an angel's arms as she bends gracefully toward
the earth
So the chosen ones can see his eyes in the sky.
Goodnight Derek.