Poyetry

Saturday, August 04, 2007

The Angel of the Odd

Collects lost socks,
Gathers forgotten toys
Left behind by children
Grown too wise.
Uriel gathers in,
Hovers broodingly
Over the boy who
Never was chosen
For the team,
Over the woman who
Speaks too plain.
All the left-over
Oddments,
Unwanted,
Forgotten,
Repudiated,
Ashamed.
And taken up,
They shine
Like the sun,
Like a star
With ah! bright faces.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home