Her eyes appear to us, melted chocolate eyes.
Lighter telling us she can't see.
She still watches, following the sound we make.
Most thought she was an angel.
Others thought she wasn't suppose to be born.
Those people thought she would never
be missed by anyone other than her family.
They would be proven wrong,
those to miss her most would be those
who never met her.
Her eyes appear to us, telling us that it's okay
to cry.
