Poetry  /  Writings


Guardian Angel
Richard Harry

Last night I had a dream,
A tale I have to tell.
I dreamt I saw an angel.
Poor thing he wasn't well.

His body was bruised and battered
His wings were ripped and torn.
This Angel could hardly walk
He looked so tired and worn.

I walked right up to ask him,
"Angel how can this be?"
He turned around and paused a bit;
Then spoke these words to me.

"I am your Guardian Angel,
A great task you see.
You've run amok all your life,
Look what you've done do me.

These bruises are from sheilding you,
In times both dire and ill.
Those dangerous things you used,
I've often paid the bill.

You said my wings are ripped and torn,
A noble bag I wear.
How often they flown,
You from evils unaware.

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.
Oh! don't fret or worry,
You'll not be left alone.

But, please try to remember,
I'm getting old and frail."
I could not believe all,
That I had heard him wail.

Let alone how much he cares.
I wept upon his shoulder,
Then left him in despair,
only one day older.

The very next day I pondered,
Should I really try?
And in the distance I thought I heard,
A frail old angel cry.