Angels

I wanted to write a sappy poem and lean into the whole "she's an angel" thing.

How does an angel
not receive her thanks?
Don't matter if she's a Cherub
or one of higher ranks
she exudes a light
that makes others warm
A being so sweet
you'd protect her from harm
she can care for herself
of that I am sure
Just doesn't do it enough,
though that's part of her allure
"Be not afraid"
you think in your head
yet your thoughts are muted
by a subtle dread
Is it judgement day?
Does rupture draw hear?
Then you realize it's not;

there's just an angel here

Is her wing broken,
or did the clouds close up?
Did God put her on overtime?
Have I lived long enough?

Author's Note

opinions welcome