A frozen Demon glaring from above
So motionlessly patient during his watch
So still he never greets with fear the dove
But grants his rigid shoulders for its perch.
The scar-cracked sculpture’s a looming host
A stone sentinel cut from granite grey
I never fail to notice his weathered post
That gives security during the light of day
His grey glossed eyes that watch me enter work
Will gaze unblinking each evening as I leave,
Forever in light above the entrance he’ll lurk.
Yet in his sentience I alone believe;
Because the eve I worked the graveyard shift
On woken wings I saw the gargoyle lift
Note: This poem was published in Leading Edge.
J. Abram Barneck.
Copyright © 2004 by Rhyous, Inc. All rights reserved.
Revised: 27 Apr 2004 21:52:37 -0600.