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.