Two rolled up paper towels,

Seen from the side just so much trash,

Seen from above next to each other,

Two angels’ wings bright white…

Rorschach’s ink blots,

To some just so much wasted ink,

To others at the right time,

Two angels’ wings tarnished…

A street person with eyes of blue,

Her hair can be seen to be blond,

But her angels’ wings, there also,

A bit crumpled due to sleep…

A dog playing with his master,

On his back a small pair,

Dirty & beat up from play, but still there,

Angels wings part and parcel of his charm…

A child of four,

His wings have yet to tarnish,

No need yet to use on them varnish,

They are there with memories of Him,

Til to school he goes and is taught to forget,

His wings still do stay a part of his core…

If you look hard enough,

Angels wings are on even the tough,

Hidden they are for the most part,

For each transgression,

Another feather lost,

Hope you enjoyed this of my expression…

© ed ~ 9/19/06