Tell me, how do angels look to you?
Do they have wings, or is it true
That light alone can bear them high,
Drifting weightless through the sky?

Do they wear robes of silver thread,
Or dance like flames in gold and red?
Do halos shine above their brow,
Or is their glow just here and now?

Are their voices like a songbird’s tune,
Soft as whispers, bright as moon?
Or do they speak in silent ways,
Through quiet nights and sunlit days?

Tell me, how do angels seem—
Are they the ones who guard a dream?
Or do they walk where lost souls roam,
Guiding weary hearts back home?