Title: Gone to be an Angel
Author: Heather P.

Sensations of warmth and love.
Softly kept within two arms.
Shards of light,
Dimness of dark.
The inconsistent gurgling sound,
With a smile so sweet.
The most simplest of joys,
Was in that frequent crying voice,
With a wrinkled tiny brow,
The most simplest of discomforts.

This was the world,
This was all he knew.

His eyes where bright,
Like only just those things that are new,
Surely any complaints he had very few.
But for sure he would not have liked it here,

Being alone.
(So alone)

Lain down beside people he never knew.

There his eyes closed,
In silence, stayed,
Without a cry,
Without a wail,
Sleeping.

Tightly kept by the embrace of cold and dirt.
(He would not have liked it here.)
Save for the bright sunlight overhead,
And the dancing light through the trees,
His eyes would have traveled the tangled branches endlessly,
As they played and leaves swayed, listlessly.

Still, he would miss the warmth of being held,
Being loved and kept.

He would miss his world,
Of sharded light,
Of warm softness,
Of smiles and gentle kisses,
Which were all he knew.

Gone to be an angel, he is,
And again gently wrapped in the arms of his only loves,

Warmth and light,

To be reborn,

And made into something better and new.

He is listening and still now,
Seeing the light through the window pane.
He is now something very fine,
But also something very few.

For inside silence he has kept,
And inside joy he has wept,

But beside you,

He has stayed.