She is young and beautiful, with child, LA sun.
The night is coming, dusky, starlight glow.
She is happy, at peace, they will be a family.
What’s coming for her, she doesn’t know.
She tells her child, she will take him to the stars.
That they are glittering angels up in the August air.
He kicks when she tells him, she laughs, caresses her belly.
No innocence, no tenderness, does this world spare.
The night is warm in the canyons, the hot winds still,
and she dreams as the starlight glitters in the pool.
The day was perfect, father will be coming from London.
I’m not sure if God in his Heaven is indifferent or cruel.
Too soon, too soon, she’ll be taken, stolen like the sky.
Father will be in London when it happens, not there.
A lower case angel, a child yet to be, butchered lambs.
She will be remembered, a pretty face, and golden hair.