Anthologies of their laments 9. Little angel
Your dynamite comes in
The powder keg of small
packages
I call you my little angel
Because you're big there
No better fitting descriptions
Of the fire in the annals
Of the epic book of
Poetry to describe you
Saw the picture of you
In the photo picture of
The photography album again
Would swear to you
Am I mad to fall in love
With a picture my love?
Well little angel
I am stuck to see the blues
Standing there in their
Neat rows to confirm little
Angel that I will sing
Your praises till Doomsday
But I can never little angel
Meet you to show you
The tears I cry for lack
of the visibility
To tell you I love
Little angel of my heart
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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