My Angel
With broken, dirty wings.
Feathers missing here and there.
He got older.
There's less whisky in his veins,
belly does not fit the shirt anymore.
He sits still, calmly smoking a cigar.
Long, grayish hair falling on his
handsome face kissed by time.
My fallen angel.
I have never thanked you for
all the nights you held me tight,
for tears that you took away.
I have never thanked you for your prayers
mumbled softly to the sky,
for giving me air when I was out of breath,
loosing my mind.
It was you who led me to the stars.
Now they shimmer in the ocean of my eyes.
Copyright © Danka Sikorska | Year Posted 2015
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