Can I still be
Dressed in white
Sitting at the right hand
There when he rises again
On the third day?
Giving the daily dose
Of the skin turned to bread
Water to wine
Weak say they're strong
Poor think they're Rich
If I have no wings
I've fallen below the
6foot mark
Left hand of the used to be favorite
Darling don't get it twisted
I'm still that angel
The only one you'll know
And I'll give you a daily dose
A sip of wine to rum
But on the third day when he rises
Again I'll be laying
An angel without wings
But who's really complaining?
YOU ARE READING
To you, from me
PoetryPoetry I wrote when you were on my mind and when it hurt to be alive. I'll love you always. From, me
