I have never clipped the wings
of angels, I write with a fallen quill
on every feather adoring you, every
sorrow that put a weight on my mind.

Then heavy with my burden do they
look upon the pain woven in memory
on those parchments of flight.
Carrying away my weight as your own.

I gaze above as you flew ever closer to
the sun. Your feathers becoming less
with every expenditure of my pain,
but still you ascended higher for me.

Then as your wings where but memories
and you fell from upon height, I caught
you. And you smiled, ill always fly your
troubles away, our eyes shone like stars.