• Her green eyes would be crying if she were not drowning

    This unexpected occurrence cannot be blamed
    On a child no older than eleven
    For who could predict such an outcome
    When your eyes are not trained to accept destruction?

    Could we blame the father
    For taking her by the hand
    Granting her demands
    To return to the house on the hill?
    Or was he just blinded by love
    For his daughter who looked
    On certain days so much like her mother?

    No matter the cause or circumstance
    She floats now with a look of surprise
    Her blonde hair floating around her eyes
    Wondering if death grants a second chance.

    Downward she drifts to the carpet
    That appears alive with the pull of the waves,
    Downward she falls to the floor which is her grave
    Wondering if she is not Dorothy
    Lost in the foreign land of Oz.

    Blackness begins to swallow her vision
    And at last she begins to panic
    Thrashing and flailing weakly,
    Her white skin glowing like ether
    To match the soft whiteness of her dress
    That makes her look like an angel.

    Slowly her green eyes shut
    And she is still,
    Still in the silence,
    Still in the wasteland,
    A fallen angel among silken waters.