The day of my daughter's funeral, the most horrible day of my life, I began a 65 day, daily visit to the cemetery. It was during these long, sad visits I found myself putting poetry down on paper. I don't remember writing most of the poems proving God had opened my mind and allowed my child to be my guardian angel, my muse. I believe my daughter's spirit lead my heart to write what I felt and leading me to accept God's blessings and the ability to transform my depression into understandable words. Though not Poe, they are heart felt. Again, here are two books in one.