Thrown To Heaven
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(When You Lose A Loved One To Murder)
A little girl kneels,
at the foot,
of her bed,
she folds,
her little hands,
and bows her tiny head.
Dressed in crimson,
while saying,
her prayers,
thrown to heaven,
white wings,
she now wears.
Sitting on a cloud,
tied to a star,
looking down from heaven,
to where they are,
she walks in comfort,
they'll never get far.
Lighting the sky,
her forgotten eyes,
sharp as a sword,
pierces through their souls,
finding that to be,
the utmost reward.
A little girl in heaven,
forever fast asleep,
her sisters woes,
forever weep.
Copyright © Vickie Hurtt - Thayer | Year Posted 2019
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