The Best Gift Ever

It flew out straight, a truth about it’s gait,

The air, it supporteth the arrows weight.

Green it gleameth,

In the darkened night sun.

It’s aim be true,

Hatred it’s crew.

Move thy did,

Yet it found it’s mark,

Upon thy treacherous heart.

You give a gasp,

As the hatreds true extent you grasp.

You fall to your knees,

A buzzing in your head, like a thousand bee’s.

Time slows down,

And he stands there watching,

You in that favorite blue gown flapping

The pain goes away,

And thanketh him you do.

A smile on your face,

At the confused look on his.

As death carries you,

To the doors of heaven.

Where saints hold open the gate,

For you to step through,

O lady of noble gait.