There’s a book called
“A Dictionary of Angels.”
No one has opened it in fifty years,
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered

The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.
The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.

Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place.
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds.

She’s very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.
I hear nothing, but she does.

Every time we embrace,
I go to that far away place
When we just walk hand in hand.
I'm in never, never land.

Whenever I look into white scar,
I begin to get butterflies,
Then my heart skips a beat,
And our lips passionately meet.

You are always on my mind,
Your face is all it can find.
I think about you every day
And know it'll work out somehow, some way.

Some say we're dumb and foolish
Some say we should do as we wish
But all my heart could ever do
Is tell you that I'll always LOVE YOU