The angels of the courtyard

Once upon a time there was a most curious little lad, who lived in a town not too far from here.
This little lad loved to go adventuring, wandering up and down the lanes.

And in the little town he lived, he'd walked every single street and square.
He knew the way in every neighborhood, every hidden nook and bend.

And he knew every door on every house, the humble and the great.
He knew every soul that lived there. Yes, every single one.
Oh, he knows the butcher. Oh, he knows the baker. Oh, he knows the gravedigger's son.
They've played together in the courtyard, there where the angels dwell.

Of every single place to be, that's the place he loves the most. The broken features long since worn away.
But if you're quiet and you listen well? Well, they have so much to say.



In springtime every flower blossoms here, in colors every hue. Blue and black and gold he sees, but it's the red that shines the most.
And all the while the angels talk. Well, they have so much to say.

In summer shadows do not cling here, no matter day or night. The old things standing guard there, with their hearts of stone?
Why, their smiles shine red as reddest crimson, all down to the bone.
And all the while the angels talk. Well, they have so much to say.

And as the leaves of autumn fall, with all the rains a-drumming down? Seraphic tears weep gutters red, all over his beloved town.
And all the while the angels talk. Well, they have so much to say.

And as the snows of winter fall, our lad lays down the spade. He's worked up quite a sweat, our lad, but then that's only fair.
't was his friend that brought it here, and now he's here to stay.
And all the while the angels talk. Well, they have so much to say.

Art by Midjourney