A legion of angels, from heaven they fall.
With folded wings, they soar gracefully down.
A legion of voices but only one call
Descending majestically t'wards the ground.

Millions of eyes stare in envy and awe
At the saintly visitors all around.
Earthly soil taints their wings, on fours they crawl,
Once beautiful but now blemished brown.

Mighty in numbers yet singularly small,
They pour gently towards a grassy town
To marvel at the greatest creation of all,
A wee flower more coveted than God's crown.

A blossom for the whole world to see,
At the sight of her, every heart grows weak.
For a magnificent flower as she
Is what ev'ry being's desire to seek.

But what she wants is not men on their knees
Promising her happiness among the elites,
Offering priceless jewels as rare as they be,
Or a champion of remarkable feats.

Rather, she loves the splashes of the seas,
The smiling arches when the sun and dew meet,
The sensation of wind coasting freely,
And ducks waddling by, quacking their greets.

But then a legion of raindrops, from heaven they fall.
With folded wings, they soar gracefully down,
Deafening her with their thunderous calls
And accidently causing her to drown.