The Angels
She sits there in front of the open fire asleep,Her dangling arm and between her fingers a photo she does keep.Her long brown ruffled hair tells me she was exhausted,And the ice in her whisky had long since defrosted. A newspaper lay at the foot of her chair,And some smoke from the fire put a choke in the air.The fire calmed from the light it did rage,And the paper lay open with a crease on the page. The flames flicker still and the smoke lifts from the coal,Before she was thinking, in her mum’s handmade shawl.Downing some whiskies, she’d reminisce,Shaking her head, her thought won’t dismiss. For I stand here behind her remembering the days,Of dinners and cinema and some cabarets.Everywhere we went, always together,And some folk would say we were birds of a feather. She was alive in the mornings, always playing the fool,And I’ll never forget when we met at the school.It took us two hours to find our way home,We’d go into the park and through bushes we’d roam. Her soft tender lips and her green eyes you won’t miss,I can still taste her mouth on the first day we kissed.I suddenly realised there was a God up above,As he sent me an Angel to share my true love. We’d walk in the park together hand in hand,And sit on the chairs and applaud the brass band.I’d put her shawl on her shoulders when I see her shiver,She’d gaze up at my eyes as we sat near the river. The hills we walked where we touched the skies,And just for each other, we only had eyes.The days did pass and soon we were married,Her arms around my shoulders through the threshold I carried. I still love her, her beauty is keen,Her angelic body just like, when she was sixteen.It’s a shame one of us had to depart,I can’t forgive myself for breaking her heart. We married young and I was quite brash,I was a show off and thought I was flash.She was my Angel her love she bestowed,I dressed in leathers and raced up the road. Today I’m behind her to touch her I miss,And the night before last, was the last time we kissed.For I had a rival, I had to save face,And agreed with our cycles to honour a race. We started our engines, the throttles were gripped,Slammed into top gears and the tarmac we ripped.Neck and neck, a top billing clash,An almighty bang and an almighty crash. I look into the page from the paper to see,A big black headline about the cycle and me.One man dies and one man banned,And the picture I see is the one in her hand. My Angel is missing me for that I can tell,My black leather jacket, I know she can smell.Now I am the Angel sent from above,A real guardian Angel to guide my true love. Bernie Logue.