WELL - GROUNDED ANGELS

This poem is a tribute to the teachers and staff at the Aspen Unit, the school for mentally and physically handicapped children that my Grandaughter attended.

 

Angels they are, real angels,

not the sort in flowing robes

with sickly grins and glitzy halos.

Down to earth angels, flesh and blood,

every day angels in blue jeans.

 

No harps for them - or silver trumpets,

no wings or braided hair,

just kleenex and a kitchen roll

and resposibilities that they share.

 

No honey or ambrosia,

no goblets of sweet wine,

just sandwiches and coffee

and one eye on the time.

 

These are homely guardian angels,

not the floating fluffy kind

that pass serenely by on clouds

all holy and sublime.

 

Ordinary angels wearing shoes,

mopping the floors and cleaning the mess,

pulling up knickers -  flushing the loos,

angels who know when to scold or caress.

 

Anonymous angels,

                             Angels of 'Aspen'

                                                       Unrivaled

                                                                       Unsung.

◄ OPAQUE

ENIGMA ►

Comments

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Jason Bayliss

Mon 25th Mar 2019 23:49

I love the idea of angels in blue jeans. Love this Dorothy.

J. x

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Don Matthews

Mon 25th Mar 2019 12:14

Very good Dorothy. That title is excellent.

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