The Angel's Touch
Refreshing breeze singes,
The outside air.
A Nightly freeze,
Walks softly-up the stairs.
Singing softly to ones self,
Pitter-patter of filth
Deem less, sac-religious
Prosthetic knees,
Deemed unworthy on a shelf,
Wrought so deeply, mind in guilt
Seeming outrageous,
Yet, soft as silk.
Copyright © Adam Hollingsworth | Year Posted 2011
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