Faintly see, I calmly claim the fact that something's here.
I hold the sight to me and fear that you'll see nothing there.
But angels dive and flying by I'm witness this tonight.
I'm sure that they surround me now escaping from the light.
Why they're here's a mystery made stranger by the sound.
A whistle wisk up higher and a rumble long the ground.
No matter what I see or claim the fact that something's there,
is bold and will relieve if you believe they're standing here.
Thomas Adams's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
The Poetaster Oct/2013
Comments about this poem (A Mystery by Thomas Adams )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 January 1832 – 14 January 1898)
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