the struggle next door <br />storms and upturns her world. <br />the cruel blows and weak pleadings <br />of the wayward son and his mom <br />cut deep into her heart. <br />this little life episode she wishes <br />is just a dream, a bad dream that <br />she usually forgets after a few days. <br />but now the dying mother, her <br />friend next door, keeps appearing in her <br />imaginations pushing her to that section <br />of her life where she keeps between <br />herself and the almighty. <br />the sweet grape juice that tastes <br />so bitter this morning. <br />as she washes her own little <br />cute white thing in the bathtub <br />she prays that she would be able to <br />bring out the angel in the child; <br />an angel that would throw a dime to the <br />beggar in the street and fill up <br />the days of those in the autumn of their lives with joyful notes - <br />like the beautiful colourful leaves <br />of the season that fall in so many <br />ways to entertain us.<br /><br />john tiong chunghoo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/angel-29/
