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His pure white gown flows through the air
brushing my cheeks and blowing my hair
His halo glows and lights the way
guiding my moves throughout the day

His wings are grand and calmly dance
caressing my face with every chance
His angelic smile brightens the sky
melting my heart as he flies by

Having an Angel may sound great
but really it's something you'd grow to hate
Having an Angel means only one thing
my child is gone, no longer living

An Angel in Heaven is not for me
I'd rather my toddler, here, running free
An Angel is not the child I knew
an angel can't do the things that he'd do

No bikes to be ridden or sacraments made
No days spent in school or sports to be played
No fingerprints found on the window each day
No forms to be made from play-doh or clay
No feet to be tickled or hands to hold tight
No ice cream face on a warm summer's night
No bugs in pant pockets or mud on the rug
No arms to embrace me and give me a hug
No pictures to hang on the frig with pride
No fun to be had on a boardwalk ride

An Angel to love is far from great
it was not my choice, it was my fate
I'd rather my toddler, here, with me
safe in my arms, upon my knee

- Connell's Mommy