God made all the angels, with perfect wings of white,
Fluffing every feather, until each was set just right.
He took stars from the Heaven, to sprinkle in their eyes.
He gave them hear and wisdom, so they could sympathize.
He mad their touch quite gentle, for care givers they would be,
And gave them shining halos, that little eyes could see.
The Lord then sent them down to Earth, having faith in every one,
To learn the ways of modesty, simplicity and fun;
To learn to smile and to cry, in sorrow and in joy;
To find a soul to grow and raise, in every girl and boy.
The angels passed the wisdom, they had acquired with their age;
How to stitch and how to sew , or hush a fit of rage;
To share your toys or clean your room; to work hard and achieve;
To never doubt within yourself; to strive, to drive, believe.
Angels are always watching, for us to need a helping hand,
So they can gladly step to plate, to bring us home again.
No one listens like an angel can. No one else can heal the soul.
No one else can lift the burden, when this harsh world take its toll.
God made all the angels. We cannot argue it is true;
But I think He used the recipe, when He made Grandmas too.
For my angel and my Grandma,
December 22, 1999
