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Rated: E · Poetry · Entertainment · #1329099
This is a gargoyle who sits and waits...
I am the gargoyle high in the eve,
Waiting for the moon some magic to weave.
For once in a year I come down and dance;
To laugh in the face of fate and chance.

Where the drunkard falls my feet have tapped.
Upon his brow my fingers rapped,
In this kingdom of grass and stone,
Where shadows breathe and lovers moan.

Here, fox and rat find peace and rest,
Quietly the owl, she builds her nest,
Above Gods own servant saying his prayer,
With pious head and accusing glare.



This jaded eye can see all men;
Those that never leave and those that come again,
The child of the sinner and the child of the good,
The damned, the beautiful, the misunderstood.

The witches spell can do no harm
To this ancient acre of death and calm,
Where the tears of the lost fall hot on the grave;
The confessor whispers, his soul to save.

While the Godly pray and children sleep,
I wait for the moon and down I creep,
To laugh in the face of fate and chance,
That gave me halloween to come down and dance

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© Copyright 2007 Sha Roslyn (mothcatcher at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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