substance; or lack of

A little angel while playing one day

Stepped too close to the edge of a cloud

Falling downward like a feather she came

And landed on earth without a sound

One little wing altho badly bent

She picked up herself and away she went

Hush was that a knock at my door

Or just the wind sighing and no more

I had to see so I opened and looked

And there on my steps was a most wondrous sight

A smallest of angels, with hair of red

One bent wing and a halo still bright

“I must have slipped” she whispered to me

I don’t remember, but it must surely be

I wonder if God will miss me for a while

Can I stay with you and be your child?

Oh my sweet angel, of course you can

My heart is ready for one more little hand

I know God will miss you but I need you more

We will all be much happier of that I am sure

That angel has grown now and has angels of her own

And although it is just my eyes that still see her wings

Can you guess who she is???

Why she is you …..

written by mom to me

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• #11 Comment from kathlyna22 
  11/6/05 3:52 PM | Permalink

  how pretty
  kathleen
• #10 Comment from s0ngbird1962 
  11/1/05 12:36 AM | Permalink

  Talent runs deep in your family.... Truly beautiful Sharky, truly...
• #9 Comment from ckays1967 
  10/31/05 2:30 PM | Permalink

  what a wonderful poem........
  
  
  I wonder if poetry is an inherited trait.....
• #8 Comment from lici0uslatin22 
  10/31/05 7:06 AM | Permalink

  Trick Or Treat
  
  http://journals.aol.com/lici0uslatin22/WesuredontKnowwhattomorrowmaybri/
• #7 Comment from deabvt 
  10/31/05 4:56 AM | Permalink

  Aww, I`ll bet this is a treasure to you!
  {{{ Hugs }}}
  V