I had the temerity to laugh at her
As she slid silently down through industrialised air
And sat there watching me.
Her shimmering wings lighting the fog
That draped the air around her.
Under a wilting tree with one small apple
Clutched tight in my hand I sat and watched
This apparent apparition congeal
From thin air.
She held up a mirror and I saw myself
I saw a man.
Not one good or bad.
But one that looked at me
Quizzically with eyes that wondered why.
And then I heard myself sigh.
I turned away from her and saw instead
A land of rolling green hills
And hard working people
Who lacked the time to pay attention
To the finer aspects of sparkling wings.
They couldn’t see the beauty.
All they saw were their hands.
Wrinkled and painful
With the toil of living well.
I turned to look at her and she nodded slowly.
She was an ideal that stood proud
From our aspirations.
And as we laboured our way to oblivion,
She stood there shining in the sky
Invisible to all but a few who stood to inherit the earth.