Waiting For Angel

Waiting
Helpless to do more than fret and pace
Here in this cold hell of white rooms made for the wounded and dying
The sharp biting smell of antiseptic cannot hide
The scent of hopelessness that lies beneath.

Worried glances exchanged between those who care
While between them,the object of their observation
Lies oh so still,wounded and pale,on a hospital bed
A handsome face,once so lively and animated
Now is expressionless as that of one who's already joined the dead

The beeping of a machine
Is the only thing to remind them
That yes,he still dwells in the land of the living
Hands tenderly smooth back shaggy jet hair
Familiar voices croon assurances like lullabies,hoping that maybe,he can hear

Outside of the little world made of only friends and a fallen angel
Doctors and nurses shake their heads,whispering about the tragedy
The odds are not in the favor of this broken young man
Though friends and beloved alike
Cling to a hope as fragile as glass

He is peaceful in appearance,this broken angel.
So seemingly unaware of the chaos and worry around him
While behind closed eyes
Memories flit about and frustration grows
Yes!He can hear and craves to answer them.

Those he knows so well
Stand likes guards at his bed
Never wavering in their watch
Hoping.Praying.That he will soon wake
And grace them with the sarcastic smile they've come to love

Hours pile upon hours
And there is little change it seems
They begin to wonder,just alittle,if those doubtful voices
That warn he will never make it through this,are right.
And then..a gentle movement of his hand gives them the assurance needed to know

That yes..their Angel is coming back home

This was written in honor of a dear friend,Angel,who is fighting his battle in a hospital room as of now.There will be a second part to this,in honor of his girlfriend,who is also fighting her own battle,due to the same car crash.