
You do not wear a golden halo
You are not dressed in spotless white
You do not bear feathered wings
You cannot float in a starlit night
You are far from perfect creature
You have no powers in their might
The friends I see so saintly
Are not always completely right
So why do your eyes touch me
In ways that melt my heart?
And why does every word you say
Sound like musical, magical art?
Why do I call him my angel?
How do you heal every wound in sight?
And how does every smile he reveal
Send such pure rays of light?