Walking into the chapel sent a chill through my spine,
The tears dripping and the noses sniffing echoed from the rafters,
instead of the rejoicful ringing of hymns.

Taking a seat on the pew was the only comfort I felt,
A pearl white box lined with a burgundy wine satin and glowing brass handles,
Her lips brushed with gloss, the cheeks powdered with blush, and the eyelids were painted an ice purple,
just to give the pale gray flesh some color.

Even though they tried to animate her ,she still looked like she had been taken out of a freezer,
Brown curly locks were tucked behind her ears, the banana curls rested upon her white lace collar,
the white lace was the only beautiful thing out of this tragedy.

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Wearing a white bleached dress sashed with a burgundy bow around her waist,
the bow seemed to tie her down into the coffin, enabling her to get up.

Sitting on the pew thinking that the whole incident was false, that she would get up and walk down the isle,
that hope was lost when the lid was sealed.

The time came where she needed to be separated from this man world into God’s universe,
we followed the casket like an army of ants into the field of death.

Piling dirt on top of something so pristine left me bitter,
Sadness will linger on in my heart for this child,
but time will bring peace to my heart.

Once the peace calms the aching of my soul and life precedes as it normally does,
this precious angel will be forgotten.

Death is meant to be forgotten since it is so terrible,
what is supposed to be remembered is life.