Counting angels on your fingertips
Trapping figures in the sand
Living off of star-filled dreams
And the clouds held in your hand

Dancing angels in the cherry trees
Wave to severed spirits that go by
They stop the world from spinning for a while
To give the lowly poets time to fly

Catch the angels in the desert sand
Following the flies that gather near
And when the wild golden sun goes down,
Ask the angels where to go from here

Silent angels walking in your hand
Like fallen tears from the weeping sky
The moon’s gone black; they’ve disappeared
And there’s no use in asking why.

 
Copyright © iluvwriting, All Rights Reserved