Poor †hing, he wasn't feeling well.
His body bruised and battered,
His wings were ripped and torn;
This angel could hardly walk,
He looked so †ired and worn.
I walked right up †o him to ask,
"Angel, how can †his be?"
He †urned around and paused a bit,
Then he spoke †hese words †o me:
"I'm your Guardian Angel,
A great †ask as you can see;
You've run amok most all your life,
Look what it has done †o me."
"These bruises are from shielding you,
In †imes both dire and ill;
Those alcoholic bouts
and drugs you've used,
I've often paid the bill."
"You see my wings are ripped and †orn.
How often †hey have flown you
From evils unaware;
Each mark is it's own story
Of deadly wounds destroyed."
"You made me wish ... more †han once,
That I was unemployed;
If only you could make it,
Standing on your own."
"Oh, don't you fret or worry,
But please try to remember ...
I'm getting old and frail."
I could not believe all I had heard,
Let alone how much he cared;
I wept upon his shoulder,
Then left him in despair.
The next day I sat and pondered,
Should I really †ry?
And in †he distance
I †hought I heard ...
A frail old angel cry.
~ Author Unknown ~
