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The Angel

Maybe you will stand at the door
Or walk in wet grass
Without leaving steps
When there is little light
And the hour is lost to weather
In the tunnel of the dying I pray
In the shadow of the last day falling
Without worry you'll come walking
Singing small songs
I won't see you in the the quiet fields
You will be with me

© Copyright,  Steve Masters.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.