They always taught us that angels were beautiful golden haired creatures; pale skin, soft features, the warriors of the big man upstairs.
I always thought that angels were just bright, bright stars; who come down to earth to help us shine brighter.
I've met many angels in my life.
One was a kind older woman, my mothers age, that wore scarves and bandannas to cover her shaven head. She liked going out for corn dogs when the chemo was too much.
One was a rounder taller woman, a booming voice and a smile always on her face. Whenever I thought of her, I saw copper pennies.
Angels come to us when we need them most, they say.
But they never said about when they go away.
When all that's left is a feather and a few precious memories.
When they're reduced to a spark compared to how much they shone.
When all that's left for you is a feather and memories.
They never said to me what happens when they leave, yes.
But they never told me that more come our way.