When God sends angels, they often look like you and I

They do not wear wings or conceals things, like a spy

Angels call you sunshine, when you look grey,

They always listen even when you live far away.

When God sent me my angel, I knew for a fact,

By the way you engage, by the way you react.

A gentle smile, my mother carries,

A comforting shoulder for my head buries.

Always some advice to say,

About those who are there to sway.

I listen with open eyes and quiet patience.

Only angels take this life with grace,

It shows in her soft, kind, never changing face.

When I look at my mother, and I see her curious eyes,

I am aware that she is my angel, and that is no surprise.

-your ever-loving daughter,

Amanda