Angels are real, do you know how I know?
Because I've seen their footprints trodden in snow,
Delicate yet deep, impossible to dismiss,
Its like they've used nature to send us one final kiss.
Angels are real, do you know how I'm sure?
It's because I often find feathers lay on my floor,
Soft, white and delicate, yet still so poignant,
They send us chances to sit for a moment.
A chance to sit down and reflect on the past,
How we thought our luck had changed at last,
We hold onto those moments though they break us in two,
And the angels sit beside us and cry with us too.
They don't mean to cause pain, that isn't their plan,
They prevent tears from falling if they can,
They just want us to heal and that is their way,
Their actions are the words they simply can't say.
We think of them morning, and in the afternoon,
We often wonder if they will draw close soon,
To wrap us up in their angel light,
And just hold us, protect us, guide us through the night.
Don't be so quick to dismiss it,
Infact, don't even ask why,
For logic is real, simply that means,
A beautiful spirit can never just 'die.'