Twisted sheets, mind on stutter
Unable to sort through this midnight clutter
Put it away for tomorrow
But what to do with my gnawing sorrow?
I circle soft blue on color book pages
Hoping the repetition eventually assuages
The raw edged reality of lonely dark hours
Filling the void with Crayola flowers

Where are the angels?

A man in trouble knees to pray
God tis a question an answer thou to say
in troubles you lend me an angel everyday
yet where are the angels i have not seen them in my way

from the heaven above a voice he heard
son stand before a mirror and be not sad
times everything doth look so bad
time to see the angel that made thee glad

think of the person with you in troubles stood
think of the person in hunger who gave food
think of the person in failure said thou art good
think of the person thy heart understood

the voice from heaven in silence end
tears to the eyes the words did send
remembered he those hands that lend
his quest for angels did end

angels be yound and old
beauty or beast with love never sold
angels in life found in every end
spare a moment and they have a name called a friend

we poets spend lives
writing praise and penances;
the wine of our souls.