Angel of the Morning

Richard M. Ankers

She held hands with a sunbeam,

And kissed against the breeze,

A pretty, little angel,

She brought me to my knees.

Her hair was wild as roses,

Her skin like fallen snow,

I’ll think of her forever,

She fills my head with woe.

For she, too free for capture,

Could not be tamed, nor freed.

My angel of the morning,

Your smile in me did seed.

I see you in the waves now,

In every falling leaf,

From you, my dearest darling,

I’ll never have relief.

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