The Angel

A poem i wrote for a friend a long time ago..
she was about to move out of the country, so i thought i'd write something for her.

One enchanted evening frogs and crickets sing
softly though the frozen midnight air
and a dying gust of wind
breathing through my hair.
Not a star shone down a light
from the sky; And far far above
on a soft white cloud she slept
a heavenly creature with fair hair,
feathered wings of a dove.
But she awoke from her sweet-sweet dreams,
Sighed, grumbled and looked around
from the pillar in the sky
and her two smiling eyes found
me, alone and far closer to the ground.

The angel spread her wings and flew
down from the depths of the sky,
down to the filthy world where I lie.
The angel sat beside me, and asked
in a tender voice, my thoughts,
no words, but smiles,
and in her soft voice she talked,
she sang and smiled and wept
Oh! Such a dream should never be.
For no mere fantasy could ever sing
the sorrow she sang to me.
She talked of her lover, the Moon
who sat high up a sky throne,
and wept for the grey ocean of clouds
that stopped her seeing her lover.
Silver streams streaked down her face
and every flower near the place
sang to her despair.
Her tears flowed faster as she,
the brooding silver dove,
cried never to see her love
again for she must fly,
Fly to the endless horizon,
to the other side
where the sun shall never set,
yet never rise.

She leaves the next day, and I
a fool without a tongue,
left to feel the wake
of the cursed irony thats done.
I am a mere scarecrow, a being
of rotting straws and clothes.
But if I had eyes, Angel,
They'll shine only for you.
And if I had a voice Angel,
it would be sweet and soft to you.
And though no blood flows through my veins,
Beating on my chest,
there lies my living heart
Oh Angel! Speak to me once more
before you depart....

The End

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