One dripping rose.
A little girl,
she stands and waves goodbye.
As she jumps up to slam the door,
she wipes the tears from her eyes.
No more dolly's.
No more false hopes.
No more peaceful dreams.
Jaded, She closes her eyes.
Silently she starts to scream.
She runs to the dark,
still not a place to hide.
and so he watches what he may have done.
A dripping rose,
drowning in her tears
"Don't rush things", he whispers
as innocents turns to fear.
Then it is heard.
A bang on heavens gate!
Only the dead can hear her cries.
Frantic! A child desperately tries.
Her angel hangs his head with thoughts of shame.
Questions and cries but a child does not blame.
Her rose made an angel at the age of seven.
What she misses most no longer has any meaning . . .
but she still stands screaming,
at the gates of heaven.
Dedicated to Nat