"81. 82. 83. 84. 85." I continued to count the strokes of my brush as I groom my wings.
I always brush each of my wings 100 strokes daily. It's to make sure they they remain perfect and glossy! It's really working, because have you seen my wings? I've never seen another angel's wings as white as mine, (and if I ever do see an angel's pair of wings whiter then mine, they probably bleach theirs!)
Today I was brushing my wings outside by the lake side, perched on a large rock near the water. It was so lovely out today, so I just had to brush them outside! (Plus the sun gives me a nice tan, keeps my hair a nice light color, and seems to keep my wings healthy.)
"92. 93. 94. 95. 96." I continued, moving my brush ever so slightly on a different patch of feathers with each stroke.
Another great thing about brushing by the lake is; that boy angels could be around! I always imagined getting married to a handsome prince someday, (but I could except a really handsome rich angel as well!) I didn't know if there was a prince angel though, I never really looked into it.
"100!" I finished at last pulling away my brush after completing the final stroke.
I gentally eased my wing back behind me, turning my head trying to admire my work. I stretched both my wings carefully, so I didn't pull any muscules, and gentally flapped them twice. I sighed my work finally done, and my arm cramping. I rolled my shoulders a few times and bent my arm. Then I layed back, (of course not completely, that would just ruin my wings) my arms keeping my back a bit suspened in the air. I sighed and let my head drop back, closing my eyes to block out the sun. I could feel the warmth of the sun's rays on my chest, where my shirt dipped down. (I wasn't naked or anything you pervs!) I slid up one leg slightly, feeling the warmth on my thighs and shins. (Again, I was just wearing shorts!)
It really was a lovely day. I wonder who will mess it up, someone always does.
posted 1 year ago. ( permalink )