to Marcy Howard
Sometimes, you may not notice, that angels, reside on earth,
living out, their mortal lives, seeking, some rebirth,
Life, might hold, both, good and bad, as the seconds pass,
With, no image, to be found, in that looking glass,
Though, a halo’s hidden, I’m sure, that they exist,
So much, intervention, but, in self-denial, you persist.
Can, your surroundings, illuminate, the truth,
Or is that self– denial, embedded, in your youth,
If, you embrace, a search, for something more,
Guess you overlooked, what, fulfillment’s for,
Does an angel, possess a voice, so you might recognize,
That, beauty’s, sometimes held, somewhere, deep inside.
Realization, of the fact, that there is, no way to know,
If, an angel’s in your life, their identity, may not show,
When gifted, with her presence, how can you realize,
That love, has finally found you, there’s nothing to decide,
You can not change, who you are, there is, no right or wrong,
And if, you lie to yourself, you won’t hear, your angel’s song.