Poetry

Fly High

Young angel, fly high.

You did not deserve to die.

Flap your wings, listen to the angels sing.

Go and meet our great King,

You died too young, your song has not yet been sung,

but now the heavens, you are among.

So fly high little angel, do not cry.

This will not be our final goodbye.

I shall see you again someday, though I wish you would stay.

For you, I will pray.

So up in the sky, I will watch you fly,

up on high.