The Angel
Down by the river yearning,
Straight past the meadow’s call,
Lies an angel in waiting
Beneath a tree so tall.
Winter upon her breast,
Beauty thick as thieves.
Her soul comes to rest
While her body receives.
Her spirit- the music of nature and peace.
Her mind- the music of hearts in love.
Swim in grace mighty geese.
Fly high, little dove.
Rest here young daisy,
Die here deadly rose.
What happens when woken from lazy,
Only death shall truly know.
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.