Faces of the innocent,
Imbedded in my dreams.
Sounds of the helpless,
Turn from laughter to screams.
Help will not come,
To the children in distress.
Halo’s can not protect,
Until the demons confess.
A tear from an angel,
Rolls down her silky wing.
As off in the distance,
Her mentor begins to sing.
Her job was to protect,
And help the road be paved.
Forever to be burdened,
From the tears of the unsaved.
Trudi Howatt ’96
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The Nomad Nightingale 