What’s in a name?
That doth which we’re called.
What’s in an age?
Assigned as we grow old.
What’s in a colour?
Our race defining who we are.
What’s in an angel?
A spirit, my protector.

Huddled, crushed, alone, afraid
And crying in a corner
Then she came, then she appeared
And I wept into her shoulder.
With hair as soft as silken cloth
And skin like winter’s first snow
But what made her special, made her particular
Was her soul, and ‘twas beautiful.

What’s in a colour?
Our race defining who we are.
What’s in an angel?
A spirit my protector.

It took me time, took two long years
Until my soul was free.
She was with me all the time,
My angel protected me.
I sit here now, I write this verse
And my heart yearns for her.
The spirit with the untainted soul
My angel, my protector.