Gargoyles

Gargoyles 

The figures loom high above us, beneath spires, tall
Silent witnesses to the predilections of flesh
Perched firmly upon rain-lashed, sandstone walls
Weathered and worn, writhing in still form
Kissed by the sun and the moon's fingering frost
The winds of the north with their finite call
Have taken their hoary toll, and time, always time,
Burrowing her way from the inside out
Her threaded veins spreading their minute crawl
Yet impervious still, they cling on, strong,
Obstinately, impertinently, outliving us all





©AndrewJamesMurray
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