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Sleeping in the arms an angel


This tangerine I'm peeling reminds me

Of another time and another place. A

Time and a place I shall reflect upon



It is said that one should never apologize

Never explain and never go back. Might

Be good for some folk but not for me

I struggle with a mantra that smacks

Of heartlessness especially at times of

Joy such as Christmas and New Year

When my thoughts frequently return to

A nuptial couch and to a woman with a

Beautiful voice who knew all the popular

Hymns and was always glad to air them


We slept at the top of the house in those

Days where a skylight looked down upon

Our bed. On clear nights the stars and

Our imagination put us in touch with

Heaven where we saw camp fires in the

Desert, camels and caravans and wise

Men staring in amazement at a bright star

Only recently visible in God's canopy

Holding hands on such nights brought

More to love than I have ever known



It was like sleeping in the arms an angel

Happy to sing in praise of God at the

Slightest provocation. She would sing until

I fell asleep and if I stirred she would still be

Singing. We were both very young then

And unaware of what was to come. Nights

Are lonely now and sleep often beyond my

Grasp. In the long hours of wakefulness I

Fancy I can still hear her singing All Things

Bright and Beautiful but, as you dear reader

Have already guessed, without her they are



©Joseph G Dawson


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