The Angels' Wings

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"Mommy?" whispered dusky lips...
"Do angels' wings have scales
that sparkle on your fingertips?"
(She'd grown so deathly pale...

so gaunt and fragile, my dear child,
whose pained, expectant gaze
held me now transfixed; beguiled
on this, her final day.)

What words to speak ~ what brush to paint
a child's unvarnished dream?
What vibrant hues, above restraint,
to which a heart may cling?

"Yes, my love, an angel's wings
are much like butterflies'...
the shimmer your sweet kisses bring
is love to human eyes."

My daughter smiled and nestled deep,
her brow kissed by the sun...
then passed from mine to Heaven's keep
to try her own wings on.