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As the sweet angel sits
Her eyes pass over a book of poems
Some late Keats
Filled with pain and sorrow
Pain from Tuberculosis
Sorrow from lack of love
Tears flow down her face
A face as gentle as the flower she holds in her left hand

A gentle breezze blows
Filling the air with a smell of wild flowers
Yet the angel still weeps
The poets words are her own
The Angel prays for an end to sorrow

Time goes on
Spring becomes fall
She still weeps
One day her knight in shining armor comes
The angel turns him away
She still weeps

The Knight rides on settling in a nearby villiage
He pulls out his Book of Keats
He begins to weep
A gentle breeze blows
Filling the air with the smell of dead flowers
He still weeps

He prays for an answer
An answer to why the Angel turned him away
No answer comes

God looks down on the scene
It begins to rain
Light at first then heavier
The rain fills the air with the smell of sorrow

The Angel is covered in rain
She wishes she could play in it
However her heart is low
The Knight is covered in rain
He wishes he could play in it
However his heart is low

The Knight looks up at the sky and speaks
"When it rains...."
The Angel looks up at the sky and speaks
"God is crying...."
A poem about how love is right in front of us all and we are all too blind too see.
:iconwindburned:
WindBurned Featured By Owner May 19, 2004
awesome work. reminds me of some stuff i read in eng. lit
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May 19, 2004
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