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My Angel

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I sit in the grass
and look to the sun to give me warmth and inspiration.
Has he been sitting there all this time?
He sits there, my friend,
so calm, so warm, so joyful, so serene.
Running around without a care in the world,
without any sadness, (or so it seems,)
but when he speaks,
he speaks with such longing.
When I see him, he seems like an angel;
with his light and the sun’s, he glows.
He reminds me of everything good;
of friends, family, love trust, belief, and dreams.
I can never understand
what makes him like this,
is it living?
Is it love?
Is it friends?
Is it family?
Is it me?
Or do I see whatever I want to see?
Whenever we talk
I feel such calm, a joy, a hope,
like nothing can bring me down.
A dream, like no other dream, is the life
in which he is with me,
my friend, my angel.
I see and remember him as I knew him,
a nice, sweet, creative person.
I wish I could see him again,
talk to him face to face,
to know him as he is now,
to see my friend, my angel.





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