she walks on her too long dress
that pristine white turned brown
by her dirty bare heels
she reads paperbacks alone in her room
tears out the parts she likes
doesn't need to dog-ear
she plays her flute out of tune
peeks from the balcony to watch
the choir and gasps in fear of the
height (though she has wings)
she flies, only half-aware of where she is
or where she is going, stumbles through
clouds, gets soaking wet in them
shaking her drenched head
when she comes out again water
up her nose, rubbing her eyes
she watches me from her rickety bicycle
in the sky, turning the wrong way
at the light at the end of the tunnel
going down a one-way street
and simply smiles
8 comments:
worthy of this tribute, all angels are :)
i totally love this.. who says,, in the event we do at some point become angels,, that we all have to fit into the same boring mold of perfection.... what a great thought....
Thank you so much for commenting Scot and Paisley; you both always have such nice things to say.
Yes, Paisley, I originally thought about a goddess in this way...but that's another poem. hehe.
Very beautiful, Holly. I think the most beautiful angels are the imperfect ones. You have another winner here. I love it! My favorite image is the one of her walking on the hem of her robe with her bare feet. Awesome!!
Yes, this is very beautiful.....lovely rhythm, lovely thoughts expressed and the language is so delicate. (I'll get caught up tomorrow, I'm whacked.....I hope that means there what it does here :) )
Thank you Jo and Julie!
Oh this is pretty, I love this one,
a fairy tale fairy, slipping in and
out among us.
thank you Cynthia
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