Tuesday morning,

where most kids are in school

But not my little angel

Since her time is due

I sit with her on the grassy land

Her head up looking at the clouds

And i can’t help the tears that cloud

Looking at her I just can’t

Can’t bear the fact that she’s going away

Her tiny hand shot up, at a big cloud puff,

moving around in tiny sways

A cowboy hat

She giggled again, her IV holding on

Tears silently fall as I looked at her aiming to grab it

It isn’t far where she will actually succeed

As of becoming a a baby angel in the next week