Have an angel assigned to your account,
A customer-service angel with wide wings,
Pleased to whittle mountains as he sings,
Paring them to hills you can surmount.
You simply dial his number. He appears
Every time you call him from the heart,
Letting love decipher your joint chart,
Embracing the familiars of your fears.
Vest in him your unrecorded dreams;
Entrust to him the hopes you gave up hoping,
Needing capital to keep on coping,
Trying to reach ends bereft of means.
Heaven does look after you, it seems.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.