Her inner beauty found its way to me before I ever found my way to her.
I was sitting on my couch, upset with my life, wondering how I ever fell so far.
The TV was on in the corner of the room for days and days and the cable bill wasn't getting paid.
And the WB was on.
I opened my eyes having fought through the crust to see what was playing.
Touched By An Angel was on.
Maya Angelou was on.
She was the angel who had to visit a man whose brother had just died of a drug overdose from too much cough syrup that he stole from the local corner store that was owned by a poor family that was just trying to make ends meet.
Maya was there.
She touched him.
And he knew what to do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem