I talked to an angel trapped in flesh
most would not recognize
for she was not what appears in scripture
but - like me - ugly
on the outside.
Yet in her voice was a remnant of divines
the clarity of conscience
in a wayward spirit, tired and exhausted,
for there is much
to give thought.
We spake not of complicated matters
but a little of misfortune
the up's and down's of this existence
for what can we do
but to smile and sigh.
Then we went our seperate ways
meet we shall not again
what purpose either had with others
was our own, yet
gladness in meeting.
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