Guardian Angel
"I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write"
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Did those lichen covered lips really smile?
Was it simply my imagination,
or were her eyes following me?
Her wingtips twitched slightly
and I knew it was true:
those stone ears could hear
every note of the birdsong
and her chiselled nostrils
smelt the roses I placed in the vase
at her marble feet.
Before I left, I thanked her for watching
over my son as he slept in peace.
Jack Horne
Written 15th June for Constance’s Angels in Cemeteries
Copyright © Jack Horne | Year Posted 2011
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