Abandoned angels and displaced heroines,
wander this barren land;
perchance you’ll maybe come upon one,
travelling, book clasped, within pale hand.
When first glanced, you will know –
bewildered look upon their face,
complexion pallid, tousled hair,
delicate expression, looks, out of place.
To live within such modern times,
misplaced in space, and wrong dimension,
just biding time, and yearning for,
repatriation beyond ascension.
From classic novels and epic screens,
you’ll see them all, or so it seems,
just waiting, biding, patiently,
for a return from false sanctuary,
to fall within reel, or parchment pages,
from a long forgotten century.
© Abandoned Angels 13.10.2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm