Daddy's Little Angel

 

Engulfed in robes of scarlet,

A child ascends the stair.

Another in a million follows,

Crimson crowns her hair. 

The booming called them hither, 

The gunman's hurling ball,

Swords that tore their hearts asunder

In answer to its call.

 

Pool of crimson halo, 

Lay about her tiny head, 

Crown of silenced babe, 

Now passage to the dead. 

"Daddy's little princess", 

So often it was said, 

Was fit to join the angels, 

Coronet grace her head. 

Who knew the blood-mud thick, 

Would anoint a face so young, 

Turn angel into angel, 

Song too shortly sung.

 

Little hands laid limp too soon, 

To clutch a daddy's hand, 

Opened to another's grasp, 

Met with sleep's command. 

Lulled to peace by rifle's kiss, 

Silenced horrors back will stand.

 

No whistle of a missile, 

Need stir her from her sleep - 

In ceaseless clangs of death-knell, 

Horrors towards her creep. 

No footstep in the hallway, 

Commanding heartbeats stilled - 

Unfurling deathly shadows, 

Misting bright eyes filled. 

 

Little Angel's daddy, 

In desperation flails,

Drowns his hands in streams,  

Rivers wrought in bale.

Slashing in the deep,

Of Angel's crimson sail, 

Beyond the reach of shipboard,

His heart begins to fail. 

But "Daddy's little prince",

Hollow beneath the stair,

Throws Daddy's final life-rope,

A tear-filled, timid stare. 

 

Stained in steams of scarlet,

Daddy meets the stare.

Another in a million lingers,

Close upon the lair.

Him his little hand to hold,

Teary babe to bear, 

Till the booming bluntly echoes -

Both angels mount the stair. 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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