Angels I Have Heard While High

i havent dreamt of angels in a while. streams that pass through the mountains, weaving in and out of mind. the difficulty with seeking help; the most bitter heart will lose its sting. the roses are just roses and love isn't anything more. visions of the sunflower fields in summer, run to the end of the season without precaution for the inevitable frost. drifting through the mist of dawn, a dream is but a dream within a glimpse of heaven. in a world dripping with mere humans, the angels will sing for no one.