Author note: this poem just had to be written; please review let me know what to change.

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Touched

A fallen angel reaching for the light,

Sculpted wings spread out ready for flight,

Left leg lifted forward in mid-leap into the air,

Right hand reaching out with entreating flair;

But her inanimate face seemed so melancholic,

And for her troubles he wished he knew the tonic.

So every day as the sun set and stars began to shine

He watched the sculpted angel in his backyard for a time

Tonight a light shower of rain fell, at a steady unhurried pace,

And the raindrops like tears dripped from the marble face.

Why was it that I can feel her pain? He mused.

Surely stone does not feel! His notion he disabused.

But the growing urge he could not deny;

For though inanimate, it hurt to see an angel cry.

He left the balcony and walked out into the rain,

Unable to comprehend what he hoped to gain.

May harp he intended affirm to his aching heart by deed;

That the stone angel did not indeed weep;

A warm hand reached and cupped the marble cheek;

And into the unseeing eyes he dared to seek.

For an instant he thought he saw,

A flash of life; but then who would know?

Sighing he dropped his hand and turned away;

Troubled that his actions he had let his imagination sway.

At the door he looked back, unable to resist a final glance;

The Shock shot through him like a lance,

For the pedestal was empty, his angel was gone!

Frantic he surveyed the dim surrounding, but he was alone.

Heart racing he made his way back up the winding stair;

And as he neared his room felt a stirring in the air.

There before he unbelieving eyes the angel hovered;

Smiling and in shimmering white covered.

Gliding forward, she placed a kiss on his forehead.

'Because you felt, even for stone' she said;

'My debt to you can never be paid'.