All though the grey dusk of evening
I hear a concerto it has no words.
Only the floating notes of angels voices.
Outside the window
The tired leaves fall in unison
They are the notes of their music.
Sweetly repeating their tones.
My saddened eyes turn
to the silken clouds.
Looking for the purity of angels wings.
And sometimes quietly,
A voice softly speaks in the music
of angels.
It tells me to look in the darkest corners
of my lost universe.
My angel could be singing.