Broken Wings Poem by pedro moshood

O sun, hide me from her seductive brow,
I am an angel from altItude watching insidious clay
Moulded in Eve shape, polish with feminine nouns.
I wish I could keep the feelings before it was late.

I could have learnt from the past, the apple-ripening
Days in holy field, before I descend'd
To her mundane height to wrap in poetry
Her wandering souls from belial men.

How I wish I could save a soul
And still have mine beating in me,
Or could reserve my feeling from her being known
As angel to mortals before her whisper broke my wings.