Fallen From Grace

In the heart of London, in 1864,  

An empty house whispered, with secrets galore.  

I wandered through shadows, my heart full of dread,  

When suddenly, light spilled where I dared not to tread.  

A figure stood still, 'neath a painting so grand,  

With wings like the dawn, and a glow that could stand  

Against the fiercest storm, or the shadows of night,  

My breath caught in my throat, as I beheld the light.  

“Who are you?” I stammered, my voice barely a hum,  

“Why do you linger? What fate have you come?” 

 His gaze met my own, deep as the ocean,  

With kindness that wrapped me, a comforting potion.  

“I am Agustin,” he said, soft and low,  

“Sent from the heavens, to guide you, to show 

 The path you must walk, in a world full of pain,  

To protect you from harm, and keep you safe from the rain.”  

I trembled before him, fear tangled with awe,  

An angel before me, with beauty I saw.  

Yet darkness loomed close, as I pondered the cost, 

 Of knowing his heart, of what might be lost.  

Days turned to weeks, in that house full of light, 

 We spoke of our dreams, and shared every plight.  

“Do you see the stars?” I asked, staring above,  

“Each twinkle a promise, a whisper of love.”  

He smiled, yet sadness danced deep in his eyes,  

“Stars may be distant, but love never dies.  

Yet we tread on thin ice, for our worlds do not blend, 

 What we feel is forbidden, a path with no end.”  

“But why?” I cried out, my heart filled with strife,  

“Why can’t we embrace the joy of our life?  

I yearn for your presence, your wings wrapped around,  

Isn’t love worth the risk, in this world we have found?”  

He sighed, a soft breeze through the hollow of night,  

“Serena, my dear, love can burn oh so bright,