The Angels
Washing in this washer
Are my clothes of many colors
Taking all my dirt away
But sometimes leaving stains.
Wearing only for discomfort
Of my soul of many colors
Breaking beads of glass in my
Gold-plated window
Looking toward the sky of angels
Watching me and talking 'monst themselves.
Wondering
What are they saying...thinking
In dismay I feel faintly wan amongst
My inside
Glittering, I blow away
Into another world of
Peaceful slumber.
11-11-09
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