My angel, come, descend to me,
Fill the hollow in my creed.
I used to doubt that you existed.
I disbelieve, I must insist.
You are not real after all,
So give me a sign to ease my soul
That you watch me every time,
Guard my spirit through lifeline.
Show me yourself, a tiny glimpse,
Otherwise you're fiction, so it seems.
I need to know that you have face and
That my prayers are not wasted.
Angel
© Copyright: Пилипенко Сергей, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110061705690
Свидетельство о публикации №110061705690
Рецензии