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An Angel Up Against the Glass

 


An Angel Up Against the Glass

 

On a cold night in December

walking home, I saw an angel

rich in colors like an oil,

artful embers, master brushstrokes,

colors warm pastel and dreamy,

lips of rose and eyes of heaven

up against the glass and gleaming;

Outside, an icy evening.

 

Inside her home a raging flame

sent colors running down aglow

to skip the light along her hair

and dance it down in river flows.

It spilled out on her youthful breasts--

Hair falling, draping, lovely fixed,

conferring her an innocence.

That moment, she was painted pure.

 

Her full lips parted, smiled sweet.

I truly saw real beauty there.

And stage set in her eyes, in deep.

A theatre in summer air.

Her breath against the glass it fogged

as she looked out and melted frost;

Sent teardrops running down the glass

between us--I stood truly lost.

 

I pulled round tight my heavy coat

and deeply breathing, blowing out,

my hot breath frosted in decent.

I shrugged my shoulders, shifted load,

and told myself, I must press on,

my obligation’s down the road,

my obligation’s down the road,

my obligation’s down the road.

 

 

Donald Dean Mace

 

Donald Dean Mace is an artist, poet, guitarist and freelance writer living and working quietly in Yuma, Arizona.  He has travelled the world extensively (Europe, Africa and Asia) and in the 1980’s and 1990’s he lived and worked in Germany for a total of 10 years.  He is currently working on a novel.  He has been published by Ariel Chart, the Yuma Daily Sun, the Arizona Western College Literary Magazine, and his poetry was featured in a public service broadcast.  He is Pushcart Award nominee for poetry and he was a guest on Mark Antony Rossi’s podcast, Strength to be Human.

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2 Comments

  1. "That moment, she was painted pure." Lovely lines with marvelously brilliant imagery.

    ReplyDelete
  2. commendable work. nice image too.

    ReplyDelete