Some say you're not quite whole, But I know better, Angel Child. You live in a place all your own, Free, unhinged, sometimes wild. In precious moments you let me in And I am stunned by what I see. Purple trees and butterfly bees And things I thought couldn't be. You tell me of other wonders In a voice so sweet I nearly weep— Of Daisy Lou, a lizard that's blue, And of mice that sing you to sleep. Then abruptly your voice changes And your look seems far away. I have become a stranger to you; You have said all you want to say. I understand the pattern too well; You have gone where I can't go. You dwell there often, Angel Child, It's where you're wholly whole.