Ten white lies glitter, a Prozac smile

A bright disguise of teeth and guile

Reflected from her coffin shine

Beheld with bitter eyes like mine

They walk and talk and shuffle by

Her soul, erect, stands to fly

Emerges from her invisible tomb

Floating by to heaven's womb

Her slate is marked with bookend dates

But spells not of her christened fate

And as they pass her by and by,

Her soul, reborn, begins to die

She latches, waiting on the cusp of free

And stares below from her willow tree

Hopes for flowers, hopes for tears

Hopes she might subside her fears

She waits beneath the burdened snow

And haunts the grass that halts to grow

But no one stops where she is laid

And little angel, away she fades