He'd never raised his voice to me,

instead raised me upon his shoulders

because I was "his girl".

As years past he always held my hand

and gave me courage.

So as I stood at the foot of his bed

not knowing what to say,

I did the only thing the silence would allow.

And with his hand in mine,

he called me an angel.

But even angels are preoccupied

with the nonsense of everyday life.

So as I walked out the door

toward the drive home

I didn't look back

because he didn't need

to see an angel cry.