Of Angels and Their Folded Wings
The angels, with their folded wings
walk on silent ground
They know not whether
to weep,
or wield their sighing harps.
It seems like hearts are stones,
or jewels would they be?
Precious gems, maybe.
Of different hues,
with scattered light.
Encrusted, unpolished
by time and tears,
and by things spoken
and not...
The angels, moving forward--
with their timid halos
and shorn heads-
their soles
touching sacred ground.
156a20612272013r1120
Copyright © Kabuteng P.Ink K. | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment