Angels

 

My questions to angels that sing,
I draw a blank, can't think of one.
How they fly around on two wings,
Like starlings and robins have done.

The newbies they show how to fly
With white faceless clouds in and out.
But who taught the teachers the time,
And halos, what's that all about?

They're wearing sky blue in the trees
As buxom young girls with long hair.
For when I think internally,
That doesn't get me anywhere.
 
Most certainly that’s how I feel,
It's a theoretical pain.
By answers for when I might heal;
I'm always left out in the rain.