• Abigail a shining star,
    In my dismal, dark, abyss
    With kindness she stares at me
    And gently blows a kiss

    She stays through winter, cold
    summer, autumn and spring
    And they cause her trouble,
    Yet she doesn’t mind a thing

    She sleeps within my blanket
    She stares at my pastel sky
    She adoringly says I’m beautiful
    With a kind twinkle in her eye

    Abigail is my angel
    She is the love of my life
    But can you tell me why I was fated
    To only look at her when she steps outside?

    What goes on when she goes to slumber
    Torn apart, fading away
    Her life and hours numbered
    Her weak flesh withering away

    I, the spirit of gold
    As old as the Earth
    Filled with natural treasures
    Cold, but filled with mirth

    I cannot stand to see my Abigail cry
    Her parents leaving her be
    Everyone passing her by
    Everyone, except me

    She says she’s alone
    In this place she cannot call home
    So I cradle her in my arms
    And she cries no more

    Her comfort she seeks,
    But there, I can’t always be
    So, I call upon Mother Spring
    To secure a deal with me

    Part of me shall become the wind,
    the pests, the trees,
    The sweet notes of music,
    The birds and also the bees.

    Although she cannot hold me,
    I can follow her as I please.
    And when she really needs me,
    I can whisper her name in the breeze.

    She seemed more joyous and brave,
    She shone bright like a star, while calling my name
    Although I can’t touch the stars, like in the past
    I, and my Abigail, the whole world we did claim

    But something went wrong, in our paradise
    Bitter Winter felt fury in her frozen heart
    She was envious of Abigail
    And set to tear us apart.

    The image of her house, swept in white
    While Abigail visited me
    Inside her home, she could not go
    Despite her loud pleas

    No one let Abigail in
    Her skin turning a pale white
    The life of hers diminishing
    As she stumbled through the grim night.

    Lost beneath the glowing snow
    Beneath the light of day
    Darkness blackened her precious glow
    As my Abigail lies dead.

    I can now become the sky,
    the earth, plain, dark, and cloud
    I am now the arctic night,
    But what is this worth?
    When I do not have my Abigail’s light?

    As my angel’s story fades to an end,
    And as she fades into air
    Can you at least tell me then,
    Who was that man and child there?