I know of a silver moon haired child
Her love neatly filed
But the book of life defiled
In a chair she sat alone
But not for a thing to atone
The chair and her were almost one
With nothing to do for fun
Her breath softly loud
and over her eyes a ghostly cloud
I don't know whether I should pray
Pray for her to see another lonely day
I shouldn't pray for a morning
A morning where golden strands
stretch across the rolling lands
And form warming hands
To take her in, like a fallen baby bird
So no longer would she have to have suffered
Silver moon haired child
I know till the very end you would have still smiled