How quick the change
From someone to something
How Angelic the aura
Of ebony hair spread

A butterfly metamorphosis
From a little girl to an Angel
Hair circled as a halo
Around peaceful young head

A mother’s anguished cries
The nurse’s soft sighs
Stinging tears in our eyes
When a little girl dies

But, as a sad mother cries
And the world seems forlorn
When a little girl dies
tis sure An Angel is born

This poem tis written
In honor of Angels and...
little children ne’er forgotten
That time has passed by

so close to Christmas
A fine time for Angels
Aye…Angels are born…
When little kids die