An angel, singing
In the street.
I watched her breath,
It did not go far.
Tired heat, Ice splitting,
Beneath footsteps,
Pounding, down
The wintry avenue,
Passing the sweet
Smell of sorrow,
Where the corner Vicar
Told me
To be alone.
I found you instead,
Standing in the stairwell.
Your hair felt like
Feathers.
We spent the day
Chasing the sun,
Through the open door, and
Killing useless beauty.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC
An angel, singing
In the street.
I watched her breath,
It did not go far.
Tired heat, Ice splitting,
Beneath footsteps,
Pounding, down
The wintry avenue,
Passing the sweet
Smell of sorrow,
Where the corner Vicar
Told me
To be alone.
I found you instead,
Standing in the stairwell.
Your hair felt like
Feathers.
We spent the day
Chasing the sun,
Through the open door, and
Killing useless beauty.
Request permission to use this poem