You couldn’t
Call her an angel
She didn’t fall from a land
Called heaven
She didn’t sit upon clouds
Or drink from a goblet
She never confessed to man
Called God
Of her lost lovers and broken promises
And all was forgiven

You couldn’t
Call her an angel
Her hair was not a shade of honey
Touched by the sun
A golden wreath didn’t lie gently
On her head
And a silky white dress
Didn’t flow over every curve
Nor did a beautiful white dove
Perch on the pearly gate to
Her soul
Her skin wasn’t buttermilk
It might as well have been curdled
Her hands didn’t grace beauty upon
Everything she touched
And her smile couldn’t dwindle away
Sorrows

You couldn’t
Call her an angel
She fell from the stars I know
Somewhere
Out there
Something was broken
And she fell
Love, trust, respect?
Who knows?
Don’t care
She fell from the stars I know
Like a tiny piece of light
Drifting with the breeze
And riding with the wind
Till she found her place
Nestled softly between
Ebony and Ivory
She was different
I do know that
Because she fell from the
Stars, you know
Some people say you can see
The past
When you look at the stars
But all I can see
Is an angel

But the thing is
You couldn’t
Call her an angel
She never met anyone
Who slipped from life
Into an unknown place
Called death
Helping them along
Their way
To the holy place
She knows more than just
Other angels
She doesn’t just
Stay in the light
She knows demons
And she’s played with darkness too
One time she even
Touched hands with the
Devil

But she fell from the stars I know
And every angel falls from stars
But you couldn’t
Call her an angel
She is different
So what do we call her?