In the corner, dusted yet bright,
Lies a pair of wings, feathered white,
Once worn with joy, pure and free,
In skits of grace and memory.
A tiara perched on tangled hair,
Glittering bright despite it's age.
Angel wings, soft and light,
Carried dreams that took flight.
Church bells rang, voices soared,
In those wings, a heart adored.
I danced, I played, with a crown unseen,
In the eyes of God, I was an angel.
Now, they rest, aged but dear,
Whispering stories I still hear.
Of innocence, laughter, and things,
Of tiaras and angel wings.
My angel wings will always be dear,
To the child inside me who misses the past.
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