Hidden Angel by Mitchel Montagna

A fog rained down from heaven,
a glittered silver cloud.
Its waves rubbed out the streetlights
and swallowed up the crowd.

Inside, folks slept on barstools,
beset with grog and gloom.
Their souls were bruised from mayhem;
their silence killed the room.

Awake, I swore I saw her,
lights parting in the haze.
Don’t know how long I’d waited.
We’d been locked up for days.

So, I rushed out to have a smoke.
I flicked my lighter twice.
The sun was wan and dying,
its fires pale as ice.

I placed a cig between her lips
and trembled at her touch.
I felt that I could find my way;
her kind eyes said as much.

The fog then slowly lifted;
night drew a glowing dome.
Folks claimed she was an angel
lost on her way back home.

I teared up broken hearted,
but found there on the street
a cigarette still sparkling,
a diamond at my feet.

Mitchel Montagna has worked as a special education teacher, radio journalist, and corporate communicator. He is married and lives in Florida.