Anja0Iricia
The Boy and the Angel
Dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn,
the boy bent low and labored on.
For crust and crumb his days were sold,
his hands grew rough, his heart grew old.
Hard he laboured, long and well,
The boy would laugh - and sometimes fell.
Alone, he returned to work again,
to old memories, to quiet pain-
as though some silver thread of grace,
might weave a smile upon his face.
But time, unkind, went slipping through;
His laugh grew faint, silence grew.
Day followed night with hollow tread-
and something in the boy fell dead.
Then from the sky fell a star,
Sinking into earth, a light from afar.
No warmth she brought, no breath, no light-
but something wrong, and not of right.
Something that had strayed from heaven,
with neither mercy asked nor given
And dawn to dusk, and dusk to dawn,
Her shadow clung where light would fade,
No word she gave, no truth she told-
yet his broken place was far less cold.
Inspired by Robert Browning's poem.