Angels In Disguise - Unaware

His face may look worn,

the way that you see him -

His coat is old, cut open and torn.

A hint of the gin that he sips,

in the wee morn.

Sits wet, on his chin -

as it once was, on his lips.

The grin that he gives,

a gift to the poor folk.

His eyes, stir a glow,

like fire on a wild oak.

No one does he pass,

for his love has no end.

As the sun sets its last,

all your hurt will he mend.

His wing, doth he hide,

for to know, cost a wee bit.

Eyes open wide,

bout as wide as they can get.

No debt will be due,

it's a gift he made for you.

If you look and he's gone,

what he came for, is all done.