His Guardian Angel
by Lord R.e. Taylor
When he was little
There was always a voice
It came from his shoulder
It told him what to do
And how he should behave
It kept him out of trouble
Eventually, he got older
The voice kept trying
He just stopped hearing it
One day, there was no voice
Only the soft sound of crying
And an increasing number of curse words
Finally, he saw his Guardian Angel on his shoulder
Smoking a big fat joint and drinking some Jack
He was still on the job, trying his best
But even an angel can only take so much
And after that, who knows what could happen
© Poem – XXVIII/III/MMXXVI
LRET
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