Tread Soft to the End

Tread soft little angel as your feet pass over hallowed ground. Your gentle aura will hush the birds of sound. The calm wisp of your hair, Will starve the world of air. You touch upon a stone as cold as ice, But to it is warmth which your fingers entice. Flora sprout and gleam anew. By your breath there is life so fair and so true. But vitality cannot change the past. Life cannot be brought to what couldn't last. An end of which none ever yearned, And what is left now, is an ember that burns. Float off little angel, to the heavens you soar, Off to the hearts of many in beauty and lore. For there is naught which you can do here any longer. Only tears filled with sorrow and pain which grows stronger.