Angel's Craft
A FRAIL OLD
ANGEL'S CRY
Last night I had a dream
It had a tale to tell.
I dreamed I saw an Angel,
Poor thing - he wasn't well.
His body bruised and battered
His wings were ripped and torn
This Angel found it hard to walk
He looked so tired and worn.
I walked right up to him to ask,
Angel? How can this be?
He turned around and paused [a
bit]
Then spoke these words to me:
"I'm your Guardian Angel,
A great task as you can see.
You've run amok most of your
life,
Look what it's done to me.
These bruises are from shielding
you
The times you rolled down hill
For all the booze and drugs
you've used
I've often paid the bill.
You see my tattered wings all
torn
How often they have flown you
From evils, ills and other
spills
And yet you've never had a clue.
Each mark has it's own story
Of deadly wounds destroyed.
You made me wish - more than
once
That I was unemployed.
If only you could make it
Standing on your own,
I wouldn't have to worry
If you were left alone.
Oh, don't you fret with sorrow
I'm much tougher than I look
But please try to remember
And let me off the hook.
I'm getting old and frail
And someday soon I fear
You'll likely overdo it
And perhaps I won't be
here."
I couldn't believe all I had
heard,
Let alone how much he cared.
I wept upon his shoulder,
Despair and pain were bared.
Next day I sat and pondered:
Should I really try?
And in the distance I thought I
heard:
A frail old Angel cry.
Rewritten by Victoria
[orig. Author Unknown]
GUARDIAN ANGEL [2]
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