This delicate porcelain angel fell
from my clumsy hands
and tumbled down,
succumbing to gravity's appetite.
Her dainty wings did not flutter
because they are useless ornate things
meant to make her appear docile
and ethereal.
My angel crashed and lay battered
on the cool tile floor.
Her wings had snapped off
from her fall to my world,
and now she is an ordinary being
like me.
Her smile is still plastered on
but the truth of her feathered freedom
is buried in the trash
and I know she will never forget
the wings she never bothered to use.
mizpah
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