She sits majestically atop the Christmas tree
hair of gold
buttons sparkling
dress of white lace
her wings a stunning silver hue
I watched each year
her being placed
with loving care
upon the tree.
My mother standing back telling Dad,
to the left,
now right,
forward.
The years have now come and gone
Mom and Dad have passed away
the Angel sits in her box now
her dress dirty and worn
hair frizzy & unkempt
buttons don’t shine.
Memories are made and then put away
just like Mom’s beautiful Angel
radiance never forgotten
shining so very bright
each Christmas
WILDsound Festival 