Angel,
You
wear your beauty soft.
There
are moths that drink the tears of sleeping birds.
I
imagine that the birds must dream of the fluttering of dusted wings, of hovering angels that kiss their eyelids with lips that barely touch.
Tears and kisses stolen in the dark.
You
wear your beauty soft.
And in sleep and in dreams of Angels and wings and dust
In dreams of kisses and tears and fluttering of wings
Your beauty steals my heart.
You
wear your beauty soft.
The
flight of the barn owl is silent.
I imagine an owl
in the dark, swooping just overhead, unheardIt’s presence felt like the passing of a ghost, a weight on the skin and raising of fine hairs
Wing spread in flight, held aloft like magic.
You wear your
beauty soft.
And from you,
your beauty takes silent flight
It fills rooms
and presses upon my skin, fine hairs raised.You are magic.
You wear your
beauty soft.
Just me.
