I look at this photograph, hidden away, coming into the light.
You Ellie, all of fifteen, hair still long, last name still Doremy.
Smiling, you were absolutely free, and feeling angel wings grow.
Invisible, but they would carry you, to the stars that were your home.
Now, you and I heading close to forty, with a modest but sweet life.
You play with the cat, which is amused, then indifferent, then hostile.
You’re starting to show, our child coming from void into flesh and bone.
You carry your scars well, but they’re there, still dimmed the starlight.
That winter, that church party, we fell in love, fell into the sun, blameless.
We were allowed to dance, adequately separated, but still holding on.
You looked into my eyes, the angel unfurling, the wings carry us on high
Though our feet we’re touching earth, we were carried to a better elsewhere.
The world goes on, and the blood is shed, the dreams dimmed, the darkness come.
We fall from innocence, take our bites of the apple, and learn our bare, sad shame.
We are still sweet, still retain the light, can still sometimes touch heaven, still here.
The child you carry, will be a glory and angel innocence, but become fallen like us.
Outside, the snow falling, the stars not there to bear witness, you pulled me near.
Our flashed and cold faces, our pale lips touched, a kiss clandestine and innocent.
Our first kiss, and the dream began, and the moment that God gave us came here.
One moment to lift us to on high, you wings carrying us, to were stars always shone.