Why Me?
I looked at a little angel that had faded with the light of many Christmas mornings. Her pink dress now turned white; her little halo without its glow.
Life on the window sill had taken its toll. And while all the other little angels were folded carefully into tissue paper and looked forward to another Christmas she was felt alone on the sill faded and jaded.
Faded Angel
My wings like arms hang limply
No shimmer to be seen
Why me?
I ask repeatedly
Why me?
Life’s breath’s ebbing away
Why me?
To some
My life’s work may seem done
But not to me not to me
My grandchildren…precious every one
Why me
I have more fading to do
Why me
GC Hill 2019 ©
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 