We’re searching for easter eggs outside.

            You are lying on the couch with pain.

Laughing, we jump and roll in the grass.

            You stare at the floor, scared of the future.

Later, it is dark outside and we prepare for bed.

            You stroke Connie’s hair and sing Rumpelstilskin.

Everyone gathers around you like a warm fire.

            You comfort us with your smile and speak sweetly.

In the morning, we are still consummate children.

            You are getting older by the second.

We play with your Lady Finelle lipsticks.

            You used to get mad at this, but now you laugh.

We run through the house and yard, unaware of the time.

            You think long about this time and make hard decisions.

We live our last moments of innocence in ignorance.

            You live your last moments in the bliss

you made for yourself,

            before you go to the heaven

                        you couldn’t believe could be better.