Ode to Gargoyles
A poem by Quill N. Inque
The sun's last light doth sink below,
This New York City fair,
Her warmth, it lingers sweet and slow,
A gentle breeze blows through the air.
And atop a castle, above the sky,
Are perched there seven forms of stone,
Members of an ancient race,
Who walked the Earth before our own.
As unseen angels of the night,
They waken with each sunset fresh,
Eyes opening with flashing light,
While stone and granite give way to flesh.
Protectors of the meek and poor,
Guardians of truth and right,
On batlike, outstretched wings they soar,
Off tower's edge and out of sight.
Woe betide ye, evil ones!
For this night justice comes for thee!
Swiftly do the Gargoyles fly,
To battle with villains such as ye!
And whilst ye rot in prison, for your crimes to testify,
You'll remember those who swore an oath,
To protect the helpless, such as I!