He walked like an angel
His feet in the sky
Hovering stranger with eyes full of danger
Whirlwind and chaos and a stern wish to die

His hands soft and tender
The face fair as ice
His figurine slender
Humble of all, and of glorious vice

I looked in his eyes, in the blue steel of grace
Widening my step to match up to his pace
Rising to reach to the shoulder so stern
Falling away as he walks to the dawn