Every day they come into my life-
A glance, a vision, a sight, and then gone.
Never again in all my time will I see that face.
They come into our worlds in some strange ways.
Some happy, some harried, some blank, some cold.
Some thinkers, some distant, some rich, some old.
Some angry, some playful, some dreaming unaware,
On the street, the bus or a window somewhere.
They appear and I see them, and they maybe me.
Fleetingly, and then die away, never again to be.
And as night falls, for these angels I pray,
In thanks, for having made my day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem