wasted days pacing
chasing an unobtainable angel
thinking 'one day maybe
i'll be graced by the shade of her
halo once more'...
at four in the morning i saw
her before me and in all
honestly i still don't believe
that i wasn't dreaming
because it seemed like a vision
serene and peaceful
we drank australian wine
late into the night
before conversation turned
to a burning desire that i'd
long considered a fiction
which didn't have any place
amongst the pages i'd since
written... a fiction which
could be seen in the flash
of a smile across my features
as i remembered long forgotten
summer evenings that defined
the lives we find ourselves leading
i think we touched on some
deeper meaning, a feeling of
freedom which left me reeling
wondering whether angels are real,
or just seem so under the golden glow
of their own halos...


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