Her face never shined like twinkle in the sky.
I think she became like this when daddy saw St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.
She never understood why he moved,
I love you always he caroled.


Her laughter used to boom throughout the halls.
Her joy spread like the plague.
Her smile shined like stars.


Now momma is a single-ply tissue.
Dew stains her cheeks.
Laughter is a distant memory.

White Christmas angel,
Love filled, nothing but memories.
Evil world, corrupt,
Now blinds the core of her existence.