you gave me an angel made of glass
wrapped in soft white tissue
she has bubbles in her dress
and white streaks on her wings
she has no expression,
but sometimes I pretend
she's smiling
not bright, or full of excitement
not sadistic, or full of malice
it's a soft solemn smile
it tells of things that she's lost
but also of things she has gained

I imagine her eyes are closed
uncovered by her braided chestnut hair
no one could disturb her
not even a speck of dust
she clasps her hands in prayer
I imagine the wind blowing across her dress
but still she remains there
nothing shall move her faith
not wind nor time nor space
she sits on my desk
and watches my sleeping face