Poetry

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Mine is going to be a doctor one day,
the angel voiced as he saw his charge.
Is that so? As another angel had his say.
Look at mine!! Won't her faith be large?

Mighty guardian angels who behold God's face,
taking their posts as each name was called.
Each angel assigned to a child's case,
and their hearts to their child, enthralled.

Anxiously, they awaited for mothers to give birth.
Holding each charge close to their heart.
They would accompany these blessings to earth,
and their life in a new family would start.

Mine is going to live as a person wellborn.
I can see presidential material here.
Near by, an angel looked stricken and torn,
as his face etched with grief and fear.

Tears splashed upon an enfant so small.
He ached with the love, guardian angels feel.
His little charge would not be born at all.
Her mom, in the womb, would kill.

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