When Katy rose, her button nose detected new-baked bread,

Her smile lit up the morning as she scurried out of bed,

Downstairs, hurry – morning worry: imminent starvation,

She kissed her Mum to thank her for the latest cake creation.

Toasty Puffins, fresh fruit muffins, “Thank you, Mum, no more!”

Brush on teeth, blonde hair to comb, a yellow pinafore,

Down the stairs with actress airs – a Queen – perhaps a bride?

Then back to little girl again and hurry on outside.

Four years old, with hair of gold, she pondered that day’s fate,

“I’ll visit Mrs. Grady!” and she headed out the gate;

There it lay, three doors away, small house of brick and rend,

Old Mrs. Grady lived alone there, Katy’s bestest friend.

The old gate squealed and soon revealed the path, the garden bed,

But Katy stopped because a man stood on the porch instead;

The rocking chair stood strangely bare, her friend had sat there daily,

They’d shared a thousand stories and they’d laughed and chuckled gaily.

She’d told her Katy of the lady who’d aspired to fame,

And Katy told her of her pets and made her say their names,

Every day the two would play and learn amongst the flowers,

Mrs. Grady loved her and they’d talk away for hours.

Then the man said: “My name’s Dan, Hi, won’t you tell me yours?

Would you be the Katy who lives up the street three doors?”

Katy nodded, somehow prodded by some force that told her

Not to be afraid of him, and so she answered, bolder:

“Please, old man, I wonder can you tell me where she’s gone?

She’s very old, and never, ever ventures out alone;”

Though this stranger should be danger, Katy, unafraid,

Walked up to the porch and sat, her inner fears allayed.

She took a seat just near his feet upon the dusty stair,

And waited for his answer as the old man rubbed his hair.

“My sister’s dead, she’s gone ahead, she sits on God’s right hand,

Her hourglass has tipped the final grain of living sand,

“For us her Love will shine above, in starlight’s twinkling spangle,

She’ll watch for you forever, she is now your guardian angel;

Don’t be sad or think of bad things, she is happy there,

Up behind the rainbows in her new home in the air.”

Katy smiled and in a while she stood and shook his hand,

“I thank you very much, kind Sir” she said, in voice so grand;

She stood and turned, his old heart yearned, the man watched as she went,

Then noticed something in the dust, and to the step he bent.

No R.I.P. or eulogy would ever have exceeded

The one word Katy wrote, the one word that this brother needed,

The weathered tread the old man read and then began to cry,

A dusty, finger-painted heart with childish scrawl: “G’bye”