Kay was six, Kay was seven she had no idea or concept of heaven
Her smile is crooked but always proud, her face beams and eyes gleam with childish dreams on the seam of grasping something greater, something hopeful. The waddle in her walk, the quiet little talk and the tickles on your face when she wakes you up... the goals are too far to reach, she's losing her speech - because she's tired and worn and she's growing sicker by the day, why should she have to pay - when she needs to live and breathe those dreams, To see the world, to eat the food and love; Love is what she does it's her happy - her purpose from a life so small and a heart so big it's a foul trick. Her eyes are closing, her skin is cold - she feels old as her breath slows. A smile and a tear follow her fear, she wants us to hear - hear her voice and all of us do, but no one could have a clue to what she knew - the world within her grasp - today will be her last,4foot 1 with her frizzy hair and bushy eyebrows - Kay was six, Kay was seven she grabs my hand and says I'm going to heaven - she let's go, her grasp loosens and her worldly eyes close, the tear falls from her cheek - as she leaves this world for another.
Wednesday, February 24, 2021