The Rose Window of Her Grief
Seeps through stone veins—
the rain that weeps from vaulted skies
and loneliness carved in tracery of voice
Crouching like stone grotesques, seeking touch
As shadows curl around her, she rests beneath pointed arches
Hands bruised as weathered buttresses, she combs hair like thin spires
Tracing lips pale as marble lintels
Before the mirror’s dark rose window, she stands
While waves rumble like ribbed vaults, wind howls through flying arches
Lullaby echoes down high aisles—moon hangs sharp as a pointed arch
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🌘✨ ©LanZhan
L