Gray Angels1 min 337 1 min 337
Descending from the heavens above,
Accompanying this gentle breeze.
Waking me as they arrive,
Opening my eyes with such ease.
Their hue misleads many,
With prejudiced minds.
For, named they are sad, not glad,
When all they do is make me smile!
Such curiosity, their journey beholds,
With burdens hid deep in.
Predict none can, where they'll still,
To release their aches weepin.
'Tis this, the most puzzling feat of all,
Whilst they gather their tribes, from near and far.
Cry they do, like brothers in a funeral,
When in sooth, 'tis not them, but how we are!
With joy everywhere, we see but, only the shades of gray,
Choosing melancholy, to wrap ourselves with.
While, even those covering the sun,
Can help us make hay!