They mix with the seagulls flying over my boat making big eight, all wings ...
They not make noise when they land on the deck, light as feathers lost by the wind. They sometimes come to trust the sailors, and one of them accepts from time to time, to join me for coffee or milk. Rarely a rum or hops for these white guards, flying is dangerous.
One visit me in sympathy, but I contracted a few fevers to me bedridden. I'm not a guest to receive my angel wings and deploys compassion. I feel like I dream when I see him hanging from the ceiling and walls of my cabin had to push the sea and air, and looks great to me ...
Our spirits communicate and he tells me his story. The history of all the Angels ...
These beings too soon disappeared returning protect their loved ones again and they lack. Draped in white, they surf driven by their grief and mingle people who continue to live before reaching their paradise ... He has lost his mother, and his heart is still full of herself and her love. Invisible, it gives him the strength to endure their separation and the brooding tenderness of his arm huge, preventing it from succumbing to despair. He is close and so many coats, it breathes so that its presence gradually forget when she believes that the opposite, he is with her as ever!
volatile My friend takes a little milk and put on our telepathic conversations with confidence. I take this opportunity to ask questions. Finally one, a missing friend.
At a glance, it soothes my pain and I understand it is there, always sensual and sheer.
Angel away goes. He will find his protegee, and a wing shot, fly in the sky.
Rita.
I miss you ...
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