Angel Becoming

Iridescent curls,
lay askew around his neck.
The wind they blew them upward,
Lifting off his chest.

His skin so pale and flawless,
That it almost hurt to look.
He unfurled his wings of beauty,
And stretched them from their nook.

They spread across the open sky,
Blocking out the sun.
Then wrapped them round his torso,
After he was done.

He stood their looking sideways,
Amidst the open fields.
And when he turned to gaze at me,
His eyes they seemed unreal.

His pupils interchangeable,
Beside their snowy grey.
And when he closed them briefly,
Long lashes took their place.

So black that they lay striking,
Against his chiselled cheeks.
So perfect they were haunting,
They could make the Greek gods weep.

He looked down at his feet,
Which lay bare in dewy grass.
And as he made this movement,
I couldn’t help but gasp.

My angel stood their naked,
With nothing but his wings.
And they were golden honey,
Who's colours seemed to sing.

His chest lay unadorned,
Except a single chain.
On it lay a pendant,
Within a silver frame.

As he turned to meet me,
With eyes that were alight.
I couldn’t help but notice,
He smiled with pure delight.

He crossed the space between us,
With a single easy stride.
And wrapped his arms around me,
We set off in twilight skies.

Copyright © Helen Forber | Year Posted 2010

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