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 © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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