I met an angel last night
Found her sitting
on one of the gum-covered benches
on the only bus station in this pathetic town
From the lost look in her face
and the tight embrace she gave herself just to keep out the cold
I’d say she had been sitting there for a while
The night was raw and the wind was ruthless
even though it was still technically summer according to the weatherman on TV that morning
Her white dress was all filthy and wrinkled
Her once so silky hair was greasy and windblown in all directions

I do not know were she came from
This small and shivering girl
Nor do I know were she went
or what became of her
I didn’t stop to ask
I just grabbed my worn out bag in a tighter grip
and hoped on the first bus out of town
I never looked back
Not even once

I met an angel last night
And it was so obvious
even to a blind man
that she
did not belong here
in this place that the rest of us call ‘home’

What does that say
about us?