brush
I remember when I told
you were an angel.
You said that you never
found your wings.
I think I saw them once
but they were burning
bright, like the shifting of a dream.
I wonder that you never
felt their touch
the way I did when they
brushed across my face,
like hope whispered into despair,
like peace offered from disgrace.
So if I tell you that I
dreamt of flight,
a sudden rush of feathers
in the stars,
Just understand
I said that you were an angel
soaring from heaven's scalding heights.
11-9-99
For Dustin
poetry |