I seem to think often of the,
whispers of Angel wings
in the devils ear
late at night,
Pitter patter,
of smokey,
wet, rain drops,
falling
carelessly
upon the late blooming
moon flower vines,
I wonder what secrets,
the wings of Angels
whisper,
into Satans silver ears?
Secrets the rain drops carry,
to the flower vines perhaps?~agb