Charlotte Ballard

Praying With Angel Hands

Poem by Charlotte Ballard

The wind blows cold outside
Yet it is warm inside
Inside me as well
I cannot let the wind creep
Unchallenged into my middle
Full of promises, all denied
Full of hope, all contained
Listening to the waves of echoing laugher
About what might be, what may be, what could

Just Be.
I am.
My hands touch soft
In front of a closed off
Face. My wings open
And the angels lift me home.

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Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

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Read poems about / on: wind, hope, home, angel

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Poem Edited: Monday, November 3, 2008