Seven Foot Angels Poem by Charles McMullen

Seven foot high Angels guard my door,
They let in the good, the rich and the poor.
In health or in sickness, still, they come,
And animate my body and alive I become.
They call on me at 11: 11 'cos thats their time,
That's how they show their presence
With no smell of incense.
I know they are there 'cos the timings just right,
They encourage my life to hold on tight.
So I do not give up the desperate fight,
But sleep in peace throughout the night.
Seven foot high Angels guard my bed,
And give solace to my weary head.
They are not there to talk to,
For that would not work so,
So I keep the faith,
Against my wraith.