By Kathleen Sheppard

My guardian angel, once careless and free,
flew into the clouds and lost touch with me.
Her tears were cold and wet, falling on my face.
Her smile had left us without a trace.

Her angelic lips quivered, frozen and scared,
I felt rain clouds visiting, and had to prepare.
I knew that angels, often content,
were very special presents that God had sent.

To see one so sad,
so afraid,
so alone,
had made me weep while the cold winds had blown.

Her wings lost feathers,
comforting and soft,
falling from the stars,
floating aloft.

Her pain was felt throughout the land,
to feel true misery is impossible to stand.
I prayed so that when her hurting stops,
I'll be able to taste the angel's teardrops.