(25th March 1943 / )

My Angel

An angel floated overhead,
With such soft gentle eyes,
I lay entranced upon my bed,
'Is this like when one dies? ',
The notion flashed quick through my mind,
How was it he was here,
Why was he hovering, I was inclined,
To ask, but I in fear
Did not have courage to move or speak,
I seemed completely dumb,
There was no way that I could seek
An answer, I felt too numb.
He spread his wings and flew away,
The mists rolled in above,
And I sensed that I just had to pray,
My heart was filled with love.
I raised my head and looked around,
And then suddenly I knew
It was a dream and with awareness, found
My angel had been you!

© Ernestine Northover

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Comments (7)

A very nice piece of writing. This is beautiful. Anyway, would you mind to read my poems? I have turn of screws, My Angel and the like. Kind regards
A very beautiful poem as always, very touching climax. Love, Andrew x
Lovely sweet thought, contacting my angel.
The scribes hand has not faultered.This is a poem of pure bliss.Love to you Ernestine! Love From Duncan
Your style, Ernestine, can conjure up any atmosphere even that of a hovering Angel. What a gift!
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