His wings are most surely singed,
from fires of his many sins.
Yet, they wrap me in a gentleness,
That alludes to his protective prowess.
Beneath his nails, hard workin' dirt,
for angelic robes, a flannel shirt.
Denim jeans and scuffed work boots,
an inherent need to troubleshoot.
His baseball cap is worn and frayed,
but it helps his bent halo to stay,
perched upon his one devil horn,
that's been there, since the day he was born.
True, it's tarnished and still slips at times.
But, it would sure be a crime,
to lose that crooked little boy smile.
Even if just for a little while.
He has a "Don't mess with me" attitude,
that speaks volumes of his fortitude.
He is always there, right by my side.
My love for him, is a mile wide.
I've entrusted him with my life.
So proud to claim that I'm his wife.
My husband is my sinful angel.
Here on earth, he keeps his vigil.