She swore she saw an angel today.
With flowing hair in falling curls.
Of strawberry blonde,
Kiss curls hugged her face.
She wore a coronet made of twisted flowers of red and yellow, laced amid bright greenery.
Her dress was coloured ivory.
Round her waist she wore a belt of rolled gold.
From her belt hung silver bells.
Bells rang out announcing her arrival.
She took her hand.
Said to her in a voice no louder than a whisper.
Mistakes we make.
But, tis decreed on sorrow thy shall no longer feed.
Arise lady be strong.
Wash away thy torment, pray let it be gone.
The angel swore unto her.
To err is but a human trait.
Worry not woman.
Throw your troubles to the wind.
Place them in a silk purse.
Let them be carried away on the wings of a swan.
A few deep breaths.
Furrowed thoughts.
Remedial actions.
Solutions sought.
By way of a prayer to the angel with the long strawberry blonde flowing hair.
(c) Livvi MMXV