Gregory Stanford Poet Rhyme

Dear Angel

Ah dear angel, there’s no life without flesh
Spiritual, we are abstract and formless
It would’ve been a miracle, to refresh 
Our lives, to be revived from nothingness
But miracles don’t happen often, do they
Your ASDA list completed, lawn is mowed
The rooms are tidied, as they were that day
That froze in time not to be spoken much about
We’ve found ourselves just by a happy chance
My dear angel, help me with my thought  
Was it a miracle that happens only once
Or an unconscious life we bound to sought?

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Alison A Smith nee Howarth August 25, 2026 at 2:04 AM The sonnet-like structure and recurring address to the angel give this poem a tender, prayerful intimacy. Everyday details—the completed shopping list, mown lawn, and tidied rooms—beautifully ground its larger meditation on loss, revival, and the rare possibility of miracle. The closing question lingers with real emotional force. Gregory Stanford August 25, 2026 at 11:55 PM Thank you so much, Alison! You really captured the very depth of my poem!