Haven

Sitting on a branch in a leafy, oak tree.
A burning, white light almost too bright to see.
Wings of pure silver...so solid and strong.
Conscientious and good, showing right from the wrong.

Clothing of white, like the depths of his soul.
He's honest and sweet, a heart made of gold.
He sees only the best in all those around.
Compassionate and helpful, the best ever found.

He is that small voice, inside me and you.
Truthfully telling us what we should do.
Haven's the fairy that shows us what's right.
Paving our way, when lost is our sight.

*3rd poem in fairy tale series*