I pray the angels hear my plea, and beg they show me what they see.
While squeezing palms till blood runs cold.
My eyes shut tight, with all my might; I pray I’m right.
I listen for their whispers, voicing answers once foretold.
‘Did she ever love me?” I ask them, listening for answers once foretold.
A simple yes before I’m old.
We saw each other at a dance – I sensed this was my only chance.
Her presence was for beauty to behold.
I knew deep in my heart we shouldn’t be apart.
“Look at her,” my friend, instructed, “Such beauty to behold.
Eyes like gems and hair of gold.”
The love was instant; my heart was sold.
I stood facing her direction, a state of awe at her reflection.
Could I ever love someone more? She was all that beauty could behold.
In darkened shadows I professed my love, only known to those above.
Eye transfixed – such beauty to behold.
My sudden tears were uncontrolled.
The angels surely had foretold.
The need to know made me grow strong, for I’d been waiting far too long.
“My dear lass, may I be so bold,
To do my part and share perspective of the heart?
And as the shades of darkness unfold,
May I shield you from the evening cold?”
I no longer could withhold.
Standing – rearing – doubting – fearing,
She had to know my words untold.
Not a word was said – I sensed the dread.
No longer did I feel so bold.
My pain was stabbing me twofold.
The instant of time I surely forebode.
“I’d like that,” she replied, and I saw in her eyes,
That yes, I had not oversold.
I offered my hand and without command,
Together we strolled into the cold.
Two hands as one, a true remold.
I believed together we’d grow old.
But something happened to my jewel, and as for me, I was such the fool.
To think the angels had foretold.
All lies to me, it would never be,
Our lives together, growing old.
For she was dead, I felt nothing but dread.
The days grew dark and my heart cold.
I prayed to the angels, for me to see,
The love in her heart left untold.
I must learn to let it be. I will never know if she really loved me.
And as for angels truths foretold,
It no longer matters, for now I’m old.