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Angels on the head of my Pen

And so she asks, "What kind of angels fit on the head of a pen?"

I stare at it and begin to ponder, about the angel on the head of my pen.

He had
Nine once upon a time,
Now only half a dozen,
Another year, another fight,
Another day, another sight

Running through life as the Resonance Man
Blessing hearts like no one else can

Life was more than a mystery, more like opening a door
Every single breath was about discovering more and more

Tennis, radio, military, family
Cooking, church, National Geographic, being manly

A full life is that measured in love and feelings
Not how much money is over filling

Grand kids coming now into the game
There's nothing more he loved than calling their names

But then came sickness and sadness,
Heartache, drama, and absolute madness

And after a prolong time of agony,
Came his release into absolute harmony

He now sings the sound of doves,
And now he has new loves,

Those of wings that soar so high in the sky,
Those of dances with his father when they fly

Repeating herself she asks, "Xavier, what kind of angels fit on the head a pen?"

I find myself answering with a smile, "The kind god would deem a perfect ten."

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