If
I had to do it over again,
I
wouldn't change what I did.
I
would change the way
I
felt about what I did.
Last
night I had a dream
It
had a tale to tell.
I
dreamed I saw an angel;
Poor
thing he wasn't feeling well.
His
body bruised and battered
His
wings were ripped and torn
This
angel could hardly walk,
He
looked so tired and worn.
I walked
right up to him to ask;
Angel?
How can this be?
He
turned around and paused a bit,
Then
he spoke these words to me:
"I'm
your Guardian Angel,
A
great task as you can see.
You've
run amok most of your life:
Look
what it has done to me.
These
bruises are from shielding you
In
times both dire and ill.
All
the drugs you've used
I've
often paid the bill
You
see my wings are ripped and torn;
How
often they have flown you
From
evils unaware.
Each
mark is it's own story
Of
deadly wounds destroyed.
You
made me wish
more
than once
That
I was unemployed.
If
only you could make it
Standing
on your own;
Oh,
don't you fret or worry
But
please try to remember
I'm
getting old and frail".
I could
not believe all I had heard,
Let
alone how much he cared.
I
wept upon his shoulder,
Then
left him in despair.
The
next day I sat and wondered;
Should
I really try?
And
in a distance I thought I heard:
A
frail old angel cry.