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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.