Balloons fill the room,
pink and blue,
each represented a different hope,
each a different dream.
The wallpaper of clouds and stars
apparently stated safety,
touched by the grace of God,
but no longer by the gentle hands of love.
Eyes of tears outshine the sun,
drape the stars with a veil of sorrow.
Sweet babies covered
by the earth of our fathers,
keeping breathing hearts silent,
until angel's wings engulf
in golden promises of a better life.
Cries of past feedings
are of ghosts on days of sunlight,
but are of of joy on days of gray.
All this lights the world
to what could have been,
suffering is no way to live.
Now scattered stardust covers the walls
where future human destiny once endured.
The balloons turned into doves of mercy,
soaring into a distant child's sunset
Witnessed by eyes of innocence are
their spirits, one blue, one pink,
of two cherished souls so new.
Never to grow old,
never to achieve earthly greatness.
In the eyes of the concerned,
greatness was attained when conceived.
Timothy Michael DiVito c1995
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