Piercing blue eyes,
he, curved into his core,
a hand that trembles;
white hair, a lazy leg.

Making his living, in the last
stages of his life, washing away
the grime, making sure we can see
clearly, daydream through those clear windows,
watch the passerby.

I see him from time to time. The last,
before this, I wept.

I wept because I felt that I
was looking upon one of God’s Angels–

The moment I whispered these words aloud
for only my ears: ‘that is one of God’s Angels’–
the tears trailed down my face.

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