All The Angels Hands

I’ve written stories on my heart
of white clouds, stormy days
blue seas – and dreams.

Then one day I woke
and found that I was down
and everything else…. was up
a sand-timer
flipped onto its end –
and time was running out.

Then I met an angel
who reached out with her hand
and all the sand….. began to slow
so I could find the balance
once again – of who I am.

Now as I watch the grains go bye
of life – acquaintances and friends
I strain to see the angel
but the only hand I see –
is mine.

It was then that I had realised
she wasn’t an angel at all
just a dream of mine
for she was just a person
who reached out
to find another hand.

You see –
I’ve written stories on my heart
of white clouds, stormy days
blue seas – and dreams.

But now I know
that when my book is closed
I’ll see and feel
all the angels hands
of acquaintances
and friends.