Saturday, April 18, 2009

The poem "Pink Houses" was written shortly following Bethanie's murder. My father had an unpainted shed that Bethanie and her sister Chelsea spent the day playing house in. Bethanie told me that she was going to paint it pink, with pink carpet, pink curtains, pink chairs, and pink potties. There would be two of everything because Chelsea was going to live there, too. I will never forget the imagination and joy in her face that day, thus the inspiration for the poem.

All dressed up in jewelry and high heels
She gave us a glimspe of the woman she might be.
For her, we had lofty plans and ideals,
All dreams we would never see.

She touched our lives with sweetness and grace,
She brought rays of sunshine to each day.
We lived to see the smile on her face,
We never thought she'd be taken away.

Those charged with her protection
Took her from the world that night,
We wonder, upon reflection,
What gave them that right?

Anger seesaws with sadness,
Strength dissolves into tears.
What kind of terrible madness
Robbed her of so many years?

Now all we can do is long for her smile
And ache for her touch,
Thinking all the while,
"I didn't know I could hurt this much."

Our angel is forever safe,
Lying in the arms of her Lord.
I know he holds our little waif,
Because it's written in His word.

Pink houses and a little girl's play,
I know someday I'll hold her again.
How I long for that glorious day
When Bethanie says "Grandma, where have you been?

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