Sometimes her little wings are hidden,
By little outstreched arms that care.
At times you can't see her halo,
Yet you know its always there.
Her angels gown of brilliant white,
Is shielded from mine eyes.
Yet my heart and soul confess,
An angel in disguise.
Her soft, serene little spirit,
Makes even cherubs cry.
As they rejoice, and laugh and sing,
For a spirit that never will die.
In stature, so petite and small,
How could one exude such love?
Unless the Father, and the Son,
Sent her from above.
Barry A. Lanier
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/b-daughter/
