Angelica Poem by Michael Walker

We knew that we would be but in and out,
And yet you treated me with courtesy.
A respite, as a boxer's in a bout,
Did I receive from you in certainty.

I kiss the very ground you walk upon,
And shed red roses on the sacred snow,
For we will love before we are all gone,
When you with me with countless others go.

You held an open door to me and mine!
You smiled and spoke and did not look away,
And in your presence was the warmth of wine
And light denied to night but not to day.

You were a queen to me, Angelica,
An angel walking in America.