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Mamma's little baby
in a frame
in a room that's frozen in time
eight years old to the day
nowhere to find

Searched the streets for hours
Searched the fields
and the streams that cut through the pines
the comfort call awaited
never arrived

Tiny voices cry out
to a heaven in the clouds
where's something greater than us

All the TV Anchors
The detectives
with empty handed replies
the candle lighting preachers
left her behind

Tiny voices cry out
to a heaven in the clouds
where's something greater than us




She fills up her day
Leaving no moment to waste
Better to move on
Than wallow in place

She takes in the sun
The promise of April’s sigh
Politely she, smiles as
strangers pass her by

Street lamps
Turn to gold
curtain splits for the show
and no one
can ever see the pain
of what remains

She sits at a desk
That she keeps bare and plain
doing far more than she should
for what she gets paid

She knows what to say
To the women in the aisles
Telling their, tales of
homes filled with child


She closes her eyes
the darkness a cavern to climb
all that she yearns for
is hidden from the light

She touches his brow
Cradles her angel to sleep
A memory holding a candle to  
what will never be again



She’s not blue
She’s not green
She’s somewhere in between
The way she moves
The way she glides
The way she twists my helpless insides

She’s got me
I can’t sleep
I’ll just dream of Avalene

It’s not cruel
It’s not mean
It’s somewhere in between
The way she grooves
The way she sighs
The way she melts me with those eyes


It’s not wrong
It’s not right
That when she’s in my sight
I feel the wound
I feel the ache
Of a breath that, breath that
I can’t replace