I saw him sulking down the sidewalk,
head hung low; with torn and tattered wings.
I asked him what it is he was,
amongst some other simple things.
With tears running down both his cheeks,
he solemnly replied.
Son, I'm a fallen angel,
from the heavens just beyond the sky.
His face was bronze and beautiful,
like a statue made of gold.
He said every angel possesses a gift,
where they never grow feeble and old.
He told me the bitter tale,
of why he spiraled down to earth.
Why his God had forsaken him,
and threw him to the dirt.
He said he made love to a mortal,
and if given the chance he would again.
Because he said not every angel has a pair of wings,
to answer the prayers that people send.





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