A Victorian house,
Though upon this house only views one window,
Locket in by walls,
Behind them lays the torment,
This little girl,
With his pants to his feet,
I felt her body tremble,
Oh sweet child,
Skin as white as milk,
Her broken ebony eyes,
In late night walks,
When the sky was clear,
I’d vast upon her shadow,
In that window shelled by cries,
A shattered hope,
She still held on to,
As her hand would meet the glass,
Smiling to the beauty of the world,
Something she has never seen,
Her strong sprit somehow gripped me,
Held me into seeing this world as gift,
She was my angel,
My gift. |
