The Philtrum


At the portal between Heaven and Earth,
where souls receive their infant human form,
sits an Angel who checks them out there,
with a manner tender and warm.

She tells them, "As you go down to Earth,
to live, and learn, and love,
you can never speak of what you've seen here,
in Heaven up above."

And she lifts her finger in the "hush" sign,
and leans down and touches their upper lip
. . . And that's why we all bear the impression there
of an Angel's fingertip.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem