"A Frail Old Angel"

Last night I had a dream It had a tale to tell; I dreamed I saw an angel ... Poor thing, he wasn't feeling well. His body bruised and battered, His wings were ripped and torn; This angel could hardly walk, He looked so tired and worn. I walked right up to him to ask, "Angel, how can this be?" He turned around and paused a bit, Then he spoke these words to me: "I'm your Guardian Angel, A great task as you can see; You've run amok most all your life, Look what it has done to me." "These bruises are from shielding you, In times both dire and ill; Those alcoholic bouts and drugs you've used, I've often paid the bill." "You see my wings are ripped and torn. How often they have flown you From evils unaware; Each mark is it's own story Of deadly wounds destroyed." "You made me wish ... more than once, That I was unemployed; If only you could make it, Standing on your own." "Oh, don't you fret or worry, But please try to remember ... I'm getting old and frail." I could not believe all I had heard, Let alone how much he cared; I wept upon his shoulder, Then left him in despair. The next day I sat and pondered, Should I really try? And in the distance I thought I heard ... A frail old angel cry. (author unknown)

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Note:  If whomever wrote this beautiful poem would please contact me, I would love to give you credit. Thanks.