Here she stands.

The Guardian.

When you pass through the gates, you will see her so tall.

Like an angel from heaven,  it will make you recall.

She points to the sky, standing there with her cross.

To look after the dead, protecting our loss.

I study her beauty, the elegance past.

Though being one hundred she still seems to last.

 

Protect us from evil, please save us from hell.

My death is eternal, asleep in my cell.

Some call it a casket, some call it a crypt.

My coffin it holds me,  for my wings are clipped.

As long as you guard me, watch over my grave.

Stand close and hold me, it's heaven I crave............

 

 

 

Author's Note

When I saw the statue it really moved me. Check out the full image in my gallery

Reviews

[octane143]

Wow! This is absolutely amazing!! I was literally covered in goosebumps. This is poetry at it's finest hun and I am almost speechless (and you know me I'm never speechless!) The flow is stunning, I almost sing your poetry it just flows off the tongue. I swear I am going to punch you when I see you tomorrow for hiding all this beauty!