And the angel said to her:
“Sister, you don’t need another strong-man with a club, designing
your mirror for you, telling you
what you need, you know better….
here’s – a handkerchief
to dry your eyes.”
“Do you remember that dream,
where I spoke to you?”
“You were 12 then – remember?
the dream of being queen?”
(they both smiled remembering,
as she wiped her eyes)
“Now hon, go and get that embrace
I told you about then….
the one that lasts
“You will know hon, when it happens…..”
And when she awoke, the angel was gone, but she slipped out of bed, and quietly dressed. She carefully went out the door, leaving the strong-man with his club, by himself, sleeping.
And she never looked back again,
Poetry © Copyright 2017, ancient skies