I pray, my angel.
I have taken young and old.
That my spirit never falls from heaven.
What I have will always have meaning told.
Sometimes the sadness in numbness and flowers flight.
Put and placed in my chest send the air of time with waking signals.
Before a heart
This sad heart needs a second chance.
A prayer to be rescued.
I pray, my angel.
In angel's season by voice.
I hear whisperings in my hearing of love.
A voice, as I need you now to make it right.
For the forebearings of forgiveness to react and jump into my skin.
So as a feeling of a falling heart that swallows emptiness and filters out.
This feeling, so very deep in my soul, its depth shall keep.
copyright 2006
