I lived beneath my children, <br />For a brief but harried time. <br /> <br />Yet, I knew solace that winter, <br />Knowing my boys were above me. <br /> <br />Running up the stairs, after school, <br />I could hear them for hours, through the walls, <br /> <br />At night, their muffled angelic voices <br />Would chase my nightmares away. <br /> <br />And when I fell to my knees, hopeless <br />they would descend like Angels <br /> <br />With broad white wings, calming me, <br />faithfully, I slept to the whispering whir of a fan... <br /> <br />And the God I prayed to was a boy <br />Who had a little brother he shared a cloud with. <br /> <br />And I, a broken man, was their charge <br /> <br /> <br />Copyright ©2006 John Thomas Tansey <br /><br />John Tansey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-were-angels-in-harrison-restored-to-origin/
