I tell you,
She wasn't your average woman.
She seemed to have
Escaped a frame
At some point in her life
And yet,
Could not be done justice
Upon a canvas by any artist
A work of art
Too beautiful to recreate.
The artist was a youthful God,
Playing in the clouds
It was in a cloud that
He made a snow angel one day
And,
Stepping back,
He looked upon his creation
It was slender and shaped with
Every curve of perfection.
Twixt divinity and art.
This was to be her mold,
My angel...
And I now tell you,
She wasn't your average angel either.
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