What might have been

Dear child you walk within the garden of angels,
where blossom trees, spruce and birch give you a sacred bow,
where spring lambs frollick merrily amongst the bluebells,
like you their youth and the seasons remain eternal
yet creation ponders on what might have been

Dear child for you are now safe within this garden,
safe from the avarice which sent you back, unloved,
safe in the only arms that will ever know you,
a mother's cry can be heard one day through the haze
strewn to the cross on what might have been

Dear child your song was one too sweet for mere mortals,
your light inside quickly slighted by the blind,
the eyes too many gave too easily to the nefarious,
now your song enriches soul of all eternal
yet all mortal good mourns for what might have been