I could see his blue sweatshirt was torn
The pain inflicted shone on his face
The vulgarity of it tore at my heart
There grew a longing to help
I noticed white feathers drop beside the young boy
Which told me an angel was watching over him
An old saying popped into mind
Trouble follows trouble
Is there a way to bluff your way through life?
Dodge fate?
Will he end up with butterflies and rainbows?
He lay on the park bench as people jostle by
I sit opposite, catching a glimpse of him
Like looking through a slatted window
His life in small slices
Is there a way to double his luck?
What a pity I am not his fairy godmother
I would take away the terrible fate I fear for him
I hope the white feather has some merit…
© Anita Dawes 2021
Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie 
A lovely poem, Anita. If only the quality of one’s life matched the content of one’s character. So many people need angels.
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They do, don’t they? There should be a place you could go to find one, apart from ‘there’ of course…
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Wow! Stunning piece!
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Thank you, Eugi! 💕
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My pleasure!
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Great take on the prompt. Love it 🙂
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Thank you, Harmony… 💕
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