I have some guardian angels who sometimes talk to me.
They've not got harps nor feathery wings nor halos I can see.
But when I'm feeling down or blue and I stumble and I fall,
They are there to catch me and set me straight and tall.
They do not carry trumpets to herald what they do.
Cause anything that's said to them is a secret they hold true.
They have the skill of listening with a sympathetic ear,
So that I can always talk things out when an angel is near.
Now I'm not much the poet, and simple is this verse.
Perhaps you would've liked me to be a bit more terse.
But I'm blessed with my angels and, if you look carefully around,
Some angels of your own my friend you may just have found.