Angels on Earth
A short poem from Tuxedo Jack

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The angels are here.

One comes to me,
Her brown locks twisting in the wind,
Straight though they are,
Curling, curving,
Flying free,
They call for me to follow.

Her sapphire eyes glint in the evening light,
Soft, gentle,
Yet strong and determined,
But behind it all, they shine with humor,
And they put me at ease.

Angels's figures are that of wonder.
They possess unearthly beauty and radiance.
And my angel, she is no different.
She is described as beauty by the bards of ages,
And who am I to argue
With their knowledge and experience?

She seems so innocent, so pure,
That I am shamed by comparison.
But though I am worse than naught,
I do not pull her from her pedestal.
She lifts me to hers.

She seeks to give a poor, wretched soul
Something that cannot be his.
A glimpse of a divine world far
Beyond the ken of mortals
Is mine with her.

She fades from my view,
As if to return to her unnatural plane.
And though she possesses no mortality,
She walks among us and lives our lives.
And I love her for it.

And she proves to me, a soul losing faith,
That angels do indeed visit earth.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

Dedicated to my divine violinist.

If she ever reads this, she knows why I wrote this. I rather think she'll enjoy it.

Ja ne.

Tuxedo Jack
TuxedoJack@juno.com