POETRY IN MOTION
An Angel's Touch
AN ANGEL'S TOUCH
I met the lady of my dreams
Not man days ago
But ask me what she looked like
And I'll tell you I don't know.
Her hair was dark – or was it fair?
Her eyes were blue (or green)
Her figure? Sort of this or that.
Attractive? Might have been.
Now ask me what her hands were like
And I won't hesitate;
I can remember those all right
And they were blooming great!
Her hands were soft as satin sheets,
Yet they could do so much.
I felt them, yet I didn't
For she had an angel's touch.
I felt them, yet I didn't,
Shut my eyes but I could see
That something good from somewhere
Was coming through to me.
I can't say what she looked like
Though her presence was so real
And all I see in my mind's eye
Are hands that really heal.
I met the lady of my dreams
Not man days ago
But ask me what she looked like
And I'll tell you I don't know.
Her hair was dark – or was it fair?
Her eyes were blue (or green)
Her figure? Sort of this or that.
Attractive? Might have been.
Now ask me what her hands were like
And I won't hesitate;
I can remember those all right
And they were blooming great!
Her hands were soft as satin sheets,
Yet they could do so much.
I felt them, yet I didn't
For she had an angel's touch.
I felt them, yet I didn't,
Shut my eyes but I could see
That something good from somewhere
Was coming through to me.
I can't say what she looked like
Though her presence was so real
And all I see in my mind's eye
Are hands that really heal.
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An Angel`s Touch
An Angel`s Touch
