Monday, July 13, 2015

the star

her angel wings are copper plated silver
she swings herself to a spire
breathes her words to a star
that's been left behind a cloud
unnoticed tonight by lovers
holding hands on the rocky
river's ledge

even though
no one notices her sparkle
her shine will be seen
soon, maybe tomorrow
maybe by a passerby
that reaches with
a weathered hand
up to the sky
for hope


the angel rests
her wings atop the cloud
and falls into a dream
about wishes
to the glimmer
of the star

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