Cross

A black cross stuck out of the ground
its hard iron casting a shadow across its grave

In an abandoned church's backyard
it stood alone

Gray clouds gathered, ready to pay their last respects
and shed their tears on lives long gone

Crouching in a broken window
an angel, its eyes and wings as black as coal,
gazed at the lonely landmark

It flew down, and stood next to the cross
gazing at it longingly

A crack of light pushed its way through
the blanket of sorrowing clouds
and fell on a trinket hanging from the cross

A glittering locket
and its picture of
a beautiful pair

And the angel saw it, and knew
they both would, one day
be free.