Seeing Things?

The Vision

In front of my computer
a golden angel stands,
as bold as brass
she shows her metal,
I'd have you understand.
A scalloped skirt
with patterned lace:
a halo round her head:
a music book before her
just waiting to be read.

Patiently she stands there,
although she doesn't sing.
She glistens in the sunlight,
her golden feathered wings
reaching up behind her
in an aerial display.

A tiny, brass, tree ornament,
she waits for Christmas day.