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The Angel
I woke up from my nightmare
To find I’m not alone.
The intruder in my bedroom
Is no one I’d have known.
The stranger seemed not to notice
That their presence was discovered.
I did nothing to alert him
half hidden by the covers.
In Stature, he stood eight feet tall,
the same height as the door.
Hus massive shoulders bore his wings
Which trailed down to the floor..
My mirrored wall intrigued him-
By his own visage he’s obsessed
Perhaps he was hermaphrodite,
in white robes loosely dressed.
His trunk and Manly Mien
put me in mind of Saul.
His hair and face more beautiful
than Eve’s daughters, one and all.
Could this have been an angel
sent here from the God of Love?
Sent here to accompany me
as I made my way above.
But, alas, the odor of Brimstone
Suggests it is not so.
That and the sight of his singed wings
Told me which way I’d go
poem
by
John F. McCullagh
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