My Angel Here on Earth
Amongst the conglomeration of the passing period, I always seem to find my angel that is residing here on Earth. Amongst all the teenagers talking and screaming, I hear him, “Ashley!” His tenacious voice sticks out to me, just as a baby’s cry is recognized by their mom. I glance around for several seconds, and then I lay my eyes on him: his whole five foot-four inch- 135 pound-self; he is holding a rose.
His hair, clean cut on the sides and a fohawk sort-of-cut down the middle. No hair masquerades his face. His fluffy locks are boisterous to play with. He smiles at me, his dainty dimple on his right cheek is exposed; I grin back. His mustache, supple to the touch, has never been shaved. His brown some-what chinky eyes and his flat nose portrays his ethnicity adequately: Filipino.
He begins to stroll closer and my nose establishes the smell of his Polo Ralph Lauren cologne. “SNIFFFF,” oh how it smells so exceptional. His green Hollister shirt fits him snug, which shows off his admirable physique. His Schwarzenegger arms protrude from the sleeves, and with barely any hair they are velvety to the touch. His banal cargos that show off his moderately hairy legs, which when stroked feel like sandpaper, and his black high Nike socks finish off his clothing attire. His kicks, black and white Jordan True Flights, make him look sophisticated.
Finally he reaches me and greats me with a warm embrace. His hugs are impervious. Billy, the security guard, is yelling, “Get to class!” Thus my guardian angel says “I love you,” just like he has millions of times before, and his smooth lips touch mine. As he walks away all I see are the eyes of his red Spiderman backpack staring at me.
His confident gait and stature, and his warm, greeting smile, are what I day dream about in every class. The safeness of being around him and his natural effulgence make him my angel on Earth.