He thought I was out of his league when in reality, he was the one who was
out of my league.

For you Brian, my only love, my angel.


Dancing With An Angel by Theresa Cecilia Garcia-Newbill © 2006

He wasn't an artist but he did paint a masterpiece,
a creation he later called his Angel. He melodized
a waltz with the swift hands of a Strauss and blended
pulsing life into an old canvas.

I stood there in his presence while he raised me
in perspective this cracking frieze found restoration.
Tender was his mind and gentle was his body as he
colored wheeled me away from degradation .

With shadows then unchained, he and I then remained
welcoming the night sunlit and smiling.One foot forward
turning, spinning,I was freely learning, giving,
the meaning of the fragile words "I love you"...

and I got the sense of wonder that deep breath
that makes us ponder,that something serious had
happened to us both. So I called out his name
as prayers went up to Heaven and I knew I was
Dancing With An Angel.

When I was angry, hurt or stricken he taught me
to be thankful for all I was given and to simply
forgive and let it go.In his facination for life
he never worried about death and I got the
sense I was Dancing With An Angel.

He knew my favorite color,my inner workings and
desires and he gave me several reasons to let go
and let the angels sing.When he passed away so
quietly so beautifully and so mildly the happiness
of the past was completely spent and yet
I still got the sense...

I was Dancing With An Angel...

And so I'm thankful for all I was given and I'm simply forgiving, letting go
and letting the angels sing!...

As I Dance In My Heart, with my very own Angel...

In My Heart...

My very own Angel.

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