Piercing blue eyes,
he, curved into his core,
a hand that trembles;
white hair, a lazy leg.
Making his living, in the last
stages of his life, washing away
the grime, making sure we can see
clearly, daydream through those clear windows,
watch the passerby.
I see him from time to time. The last,
before this, I wept.
I wept because I felt that I
was looking upon one of God's Angels–
The moment I whispered these words aloud
for only my ears: 'that is one of God's Angels'–
the tears trailed down my face.