Her laugh was that of a wind chime On a soft spring breeze. Her smile was that of a child Enjoying a circus clown. Her eyes shown like the dews On a thousand morning webs And her desire once was To spend some time with me.
Her edicts always were To be followed as best could be. Her moods were to be accepted As if they were from high. Her vision of the truth Was the only one of worth. The hardest of it all Was her time to leave.
Each starting has a passing. Each night has a day. Each famine has a harvest. Each sickness has a cure. Each problem has a solution. Each torn spirit has a stitch. My daughter has a daughter That laughs just like her.
Some of God`s plenty Shines because My daughter has a daughter That laughs just like her.