Poem by Dan Stone
Once upon a time
I thought I knew
what angels were
and what they do,
how they dressed
and that, of course,
they flew, and that
they were a designated
crew sent to be
our loyal friends,
our trusted guides
usually disguised
but always here to
show us that
we’re not alone,
to bring good news
and teach us that
the love we often
wish we had
is ours to give,
that all we need
will come right through.
Who could have guessed
how wiser I was then,
how true that is,
how much they care,
how all around
they always are
even when they
slip right past
the dreams and stories
we’ve been told,
to help us out
in ways we seldom
recognize or talk about.
Despite our grownup doubts
and tiny expectations
angels carry on
right before our eyes
with unexpected,
exaltations
even as we claim
we’re on our own,
and past our frayed
imaginations,
even when we entertain
them, unaware.
Once upon a time
I thought I knew
what angels were
and what they do,
how they dressed
and that, of course,
they flew, and that
they were a designated
crew sent to be
our loyal friends,
our trusted guides
usually disguised
but always here to
show us that
we’re not alone,
to bring good news
and teach us that
the love we often
wish we had
is ours to give,
that all we need
will come right through.
Who could have guessed
how wiser I was then,
how true that is,
how much they care,
how all around
they always are
even when they
slip right past
the dreams and stories
we’ve been told,
to help us out
in ways we seldom
recognize or talk about.
Despite our grownup doubts
and tiny expectations
angels carry on
right before our eyes
with unexpected,
exaltations
even as we claim
we’re on our own,
and past our frayed
imaginations,
even when we entertain
them, unaware.