Angel with the Painted Toes

Her porcelain gaze
with the sparkle
that flashes from the heavens—

Beckons…
“Come to me my long lost friend!”

Even though I know
that she is as plastic as the
moss green flower pot
perched on the bench.

Her wings outstretched
like those of an…

Angel?

Or perhaps like the great blue heron
capturing the last vestiges of sun-warmth
from an all too glorious day.

She poses for me,
sprawled across a stone
where she is destined to be…

Frozen in time.

Her flowy dress concealing her true form
Except for ten tiny painted toenails,
glittering like rubies–

Rare and divine.

Her lips form an “O”
as if to exclaim:
“I know what you are thinking…
And I am NOT

that kind of an angel!”

If only she could speak her mind
beyond an imagined sigh,
I truly believe
that she would approve.