Isam Hussain (8-12-1938 / Iraq)
Even Angels Grow Old and Forgetful
I remember being asked to go to Galilee
to break the good news to a young lady.
I told her what the Lord had told me
and of future things he could foresee.
Well, Joseph heard, he blew his top,
his fears and doubts I had to stop.
He eventually calmed down
after a huff, a puff, and a frown.
Some say he was born in December
but I distinctly remember
Spring was in the air
And I felt like a child at the fair.
There was much revelry at the inn
where the happy father had been.
Even the shepherds joined in,
a rowdy lot, making such a din.
I still had one or two things to do.
I am his Guardian Angel, you know.
I knew that the Magi were on their way,
and Herod, the children wished to slay.
All this happened two thousand years ago.
I was young then and always on the go.
The Lord had lots of business to go through;
he relied on me to do his will, just so.
I am thinking of retiring now;
it is time for me to take a bow.
You see, I am old, my memory gone to pot;
sometimes I remember, sometimes I do not.
Did I say spring was in the air,
and something about a fair?
I can’t really remember;
perhaps it was December.
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