So Angie Left For Home At Christmas Time Poem by Lynn W. Petty

Our package was returned.
Harsh words were scrawled across its front:
'This person is deceased.'
It's not as though we were surprised to read
This notice on the wrapping of her gift,
It was the way in which we were informed.
Impassive, cold, detached as though the dead
Was nothing more than just a mark across
A clipboard page that hung upon their bed.

She was prepared to leave this world. She would
Not speak a word about her pain, despite
The ache with every coughing breath.
Each step would register distress upon her face.
For ninety-six accomplished years, a grand,
Fulfilled and beneficial life, she taught
What she had loved the most, the principles
Of life, through music's voice. As time approached
Her journey's end, she seemed to understand
Conclusion was at hand. She must have passed
From natural slumber to that from which
There is no waking. The nurse had turned
Her back and Angie slipped her human form
Without the slightest stir.