She was the composition
Of a breaking of many things
All the pieces forming a mural
Of an angel with a broken wings

Wilted feather grace the earth
More than her arms can carry
Creating art like stained glass floors
Gracing eyes, hearts, souls, long since buried

Eyes like those of olive orchards
A deep green that kissed the sky
With feet not accustomed to harsh earth
And muddy wings that were once known to fly