Angels Poem by Aminat Opatola

In this dim world of clouding cares,
we rarely know till wildered eyes clears,
see white wings lessening up the skies,
the angels with us yet we seems unaware,
around our pillows golden ladder rise,
and up and down the skies with wingled sandals shods,
the angels come and go in all magical forms,
visits few and far in between,
raising pills on the mountains and into the clear white skies,
pacing the world with large feathered wings
angels aids a part of a dim clear day, shelding the skies as they sings in pretty mushed voices,
angels mends heart of the feared troubled souls,
cause each with an angel we are all born.