She came my way
Seeking to replace a lost shuttle-cork
I looked at her and asked her
If all the other angels in heaven also played badminton
And there our friendship began
Then 1st, I mispronounced her name
And her, She said mine with an accent
She was vested in whites - White pure and clean
She promised to teach me how to wear whites
I promise her i don't make promises but I'd try
She read my poetry - I read her `dreams'
She told me writers have a soul
I thought, Wow, that's so profound
And though my very soul was troubled
She was the friend, the angel looking out for me
Now that the waters of my seas are calm
And my soul steeled with peace
Reflecting on the thought that writes have a soul
I have for you this syllogism
If a soul is a god,
And a soul dies not,
Then Am I he who is eternal?
``For He will command His Angels concerning you..''
Psalms 91-11.
