Angel Light Part 3

I stood in awe as she alighted like a bird upon some branch,
Belisha beacon to the abyss bound clochard.
Bonfire for uncanny scion adrift,
ignited by her
incandescent eyes.
Chanteuse of Arcadia on song and sound.
Halo at the crossroads, spreading out her wings to scupper animus
and bile.
Mystic lodger earthen yet ethereal,
hoisting every limb aloft from Bern to Betelgeuse.
Limelight vernal
queen blessed by open columns, healer on the arc where tangents dwell.
Silver tiptop finger nails a castanet with magic samba grooves.
In ritual or routine this lifeline Flora,
bright zoetic statue,
magnetising symbol for the bod without a bean.
Silken hands that rock the infant cradle,
quelling fractious babies, saboteurs of sandman’s mythic dust.
Moonlight moths that
flit across the glossy pages sculpted in her cheeks.
Backstreet lantern white knight,
echo in a mirror of chatoyant eyes.
Cast iron shadow coat tail,
destiny’s de lux edition bound but never gagged.
Damsel on assignment,
ever present vigil, soothing troubled psyches as they wallow in the waters of Lethe.
Nightingale who weaves an ample flourish,
band aid profile minder of a
cobblestone waif,
otherworldly migrant,
window on polluted quarters
harbouring those abject fallen figures,
bane of ghostly ushers when they prowl.
Heroine’s ascension ,
angel flying over heaven’s ladder,
waiting for that moment when her heart has found a home.