by BSC
Sitting alone on a crescent moon,
Dipping her toes in the stars,
This tiny little angel,
Nibbling on chocolate bars.
Perched on the edge with her fishing pole,
What can she catch in the sky?
Perhaps a little cherub,
Who's just learning how to fly.
From a star another is swinging,
His wings brushing to and fro,
Wiggling his feathers and pumping his legs,
This swing just goes too slow!
What is that over there?
On the tail of a comet they ride,
It's two more little angels,
Playing on heaven's slide.
The sweet sound of children laughing,
So happy, yet not very loud,
A group of tiny cherubs,
Tumbling about on a fluffy white cloud.
Feathers floating everywhere,
Tiny halos askew on their heads,
Full of vim and vigor,
With nary a thought of their beds.
These precious protectors of the night
Have caught me quite off guard,
As they frolic through the heavens
Safely in God's backyard.
