Awoke and fully aware,
But only when she’s standing there.
Otherwise, filled with regrets.
A poor player who struts and frets.
Always fully aware,
Her light touch, the smell of her hair.
Her presence fills the room,
And he is fully consumed.
Wings to fly; tongue of lead.
Flooded with love, filled with dread.
Cannot speak, he just stares
At the angel, standing, unaware.