Ten angels wildly dance on the head of your pen,
They peer on with anticipation as new melodies,
Crafted with your ink, take their first breath.
I see them. Clothed in brilliance, but like children on Christmas morning
Excitedly drawing closer to each syllable until it is finally time to unwrap your next “ahaha!”.
Ten angels sitting on your shoulder, tonight as you sleep,
Eagerly awaiting the moment when the dawn kisses your lips
And the sun bursts forth from your mouth singing praises to your Creator.
Ten groggy-eyed angels,
Lying on the edge of your morning cup of joe
Inhaling just enough caffeinated fumes
To make up for last night’s deficit.
Ten slightly buzzed angels
Doing deep stretches on your writing tablet
Before they take their rightful place atop your pen.
Knowing today’s performance is just about to begin.