Sketches Of A Lost Portrait

A Frail Old Angel's Cry

A Frail Old Angel's Cry

Last night I had a dream,

It had a tale to tell,

I dreamed I saw an angel,

The poor thing, he wasn't feeling well.

His body was bruised and battered,

His wings were ripped and torn,

This angel could hardly walk,

He looked so tired and worn.

I walked right up to him and asked,

"Angel, how can this be?"

He turned around and paused a bit,

Then he spoke these words to me,

"I'm your Guardian Angel,

A great task as you can see,

You have run wild most all your life,

Just look at what it has done to me.

The bruises are from shielding you,

In times, both dire and ill,

Those alcoholic bouts and drugs you've used,

I have often paid the bill.

You see, how my wings are ripped and torn,

How often they have flown you,

Each mark has its' own story to tell,

Of deadly wounds, that was certain to have destroyed you,

Oh, don't you fret or worry none,

But, please try to understand,

I am getting frail and old, it seems,

But, I will keep doing all that I can."

I could not believe all that I had heard,

Let alone how much he cared,

I wept upon his shoulders,

Then, left him in despair.

The next day, I sat and pondered,

Should I even really try?

And, in the distance, I thought I heard,

A frail old angel's cry.


By: Laura Elizabeth Dixon

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A Frail Old Angel`s Cry