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Angels Sing

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Angels Sing I hear them, all the time. When I pick up my child, and hold her close, her breath… Harps; lovely, faraway, and distant. When I go to my grandmothers, and clean her kitchen, all afternoon, while she teaches me, how to make, cornbread and beans… the right way. Violins and soft flutes, as she smoked for 60 years. She is dying, My heart is crying, but the woodwinds are respectful… of her years, if not my tears. When I go to my loves grave, and stand beside the small flag, I can hear the band, playing Rock Songs, favorite one time hits, and the Star Spangled Banner! The vocals, on high, Every word a blessing to the family, you left behind. The freedom to listen, The freedom to sing, to laugh and pray, about everything!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 12/4/2019 9:18:00 AM
So lovely, Ann! Fave.
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Date: 12/4/2019 2:00:00 AM
What a sweet lovely poem, Ann!
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Date: 12/3/2019 11:35:00 PM
Ann, What a wonderful poem. You have found a voice in your verse that I find peaceful & healing. -Richard
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Date: 12/3/2019 10:56:00 PM
##My heart is crying, but the woodwinds are respectful… of her years, if not my tears## I think your grandmother taught you many things.. The emotions conveyed are deep and sad..
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Date: 12/3/2019 9:27:00 PM
Just beautiful, and a delight to read!
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Date: 12/3/2019 7:59:00 PM
Ann this poem really reaches me. Well expressed and written :)
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