Mary Cris
She laughs, she cries- the heaven’s gift. She’s an angel in disguise;
A work of art as perfect as Michelangelo; she has the angel’s eyes.
She’s a doll in porcelain, a statue in gold, a jewelry in diamond;
She’s everything that speaks from beauty and jewels to princess and empress.
She sings in hum, in tune of happiness she’s calling her angel friends;
She’s the person in peace (astound serenity) and then love from father commends.
Father defines in her the purpose of hope and realm of love;
Defined by her the poetry from pain and beauty of roses and dove.
She’s the reflection of Eva in her wholeness of faith and innocence;
Her beauty’s reflection of Veronica; a whole through her part in her essence.
The scorching fire in her eyes, in love, silently dances in romantic melody;
And like the breath of angel, the breath of flowers in her sweetest honey.
The kisses I made marked by my wholeness of love, tattooed in her heart;
Remembering her essence and promises to not be apart.
For angel in roses to leave, how not to feel the emptiness and pain?
When angels lead her way with wings of heaven’s love for her own gain.
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