The little boy looks up, watching, waiting,

tears gently cascading down.

He sits there, lonely, sadly,

sitting there still and cold.

There is no one to take him in, to hold  him close,

to bake him cookies and make him smile,

to hug him warmly and kiss his cheek,

to read him a story and tell him…

… “I love you.”

Once, there was, once, it seemed, long ago.

Once there was someone to take care of him,

            to want him, to tell him…

            … “I’ll always be here.”

She told him she would be there, up in the sky.

The little boy runs up the hill, up the slope, up the ledge,

to the edge of the cliff as angel tears mist down, all around him.

He thinks… “I’m in the sky now.”

He sits there, wet, excited, no longer so cold,

and angel tears turn to little ice sprites,

the dimming sky filled with angel’s light dims further.

Artemis’ crown comes out

and the little boy sits there, shivering, anticipating,

wandering why she wasn’t there.

Later, the darkness too, dims. He looks up, hopefully,

but it is just the sun, pushing away his blankets.

Ice sprites turn back to angel tears.

Angel tears turn to a hazy air, up, up at the edge of the cliff.

The little boy is lonely, miserable. He is cold, shivering.

He cannot bear to wait, knowing, knowing there is no one left.

He takes to the sky, flying, falling,

takes to the sky to find his mother.