Tracing Angels
Somewhere within the misty shroud of heaven
A finger, traces angels, in the air
Wondering if they are truly present
Why they whisper dreams no one can hear
Soft tingle of a touch, a gentle “psst”
As testy as a lone mosquito’s buzz
Torturing the calm of dreamless sleep
When asked “why me” the answer is “because”
So, sleep in fitful murmurings, and dream
Of mists, of heaven’s shroud, of feathered wings
Etch lazily your dream upon the night
And ponder why it is you fear such things
As fingers trace their angels in the air
Lulled to sleep by voices they can’t hear
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2023
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