It had a tale to tell.

I dreamed I saw an Angel;

Poor thing, he wasn't feeling well.

His body bruised and battered His wings were ripped and torn

This Angel could hardly walk, He looked so tired and worn.

I walked right up to him to ask; Angel? How can this be?

He turned around and paused a (bit), Then he spoke these words to me:

"I'm Your Guardian Angel, A great task as you can see.

You've run amok most all your life: Look what it's done to me.

These bruises are from shielding Ýou In times both dire and íll.

Those alcoholic bouts and drugs you've used I've often paid the bill

You see my wings are ripped and torn; How often they have flown you

From evils unaware. Each mark is it's own story of deadly wounds destroyed.

You made me wish more than once That I was unemployed.

If only you could make ít Standing on your own;

Oh, don't you fret or worry but please try to remember

I'm getting old and frail.

I could not believe all I had heard, Let alone how much he cared.

I wept upon his shoulder, Then left him ín despair.

The next day I sat and pondered: Should I really try?

Ånd ín the distance I thought I heard; A frail Old Angel Cry.