Happy Birthday, Angel.

I wrote this several years ago for Diane, on her birthday. I reprise it here, since it still strikes a chord with me. We are so lucky to have found each other late in life. We are proof that fate can be generous. Happy Birthday, Angel.

Angel.

In his night dream,

God sent him an angel,

dressed in white,

ready to lift him up

to heaven,

singing a litany of love

and hope.

She would forgive his sins,

like parish priests

on Saturday afternoon.

He would step confidently

into the light,

renewed and ready for a new life.

He wanted his words to her

to ride a litany of praise

to heaven.

He wanted them to scream

his devotion and his love.

He feared that they would travel softly,

unable to reveal

the depth of his emotions

and love.

He knew that the harsh light of day

would remind him

of the little cruelties

that invaded his daydreams.

He hated the reality

of a world

that harmed the innocent,

and rewarded the guilty.

Still, he dreamed

and somehow knew

that when she came,

she would be looking for an angel too.