It was the young Angel’s first soul,
he was promoted to a collector,
and God chose him from all other selectors,
he was a young Angel, merely a boy,
but also he was God’s new pride and joy,
he slowly stared around the room,
before his gaze returned to the spirit
as it loomed,
his voice was at that point so soft
that every spirit watching had strain
to hear him as he called out a name,
the dead, in a bed,
his head to one side,
eyes wide open, mouth partly open,
the family in the background,
he could hear them as they cried,
the man suffered some sort of seizure,
and simply died,
frailties of life,
the Angel was selected,
so his first soul, collected.
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