Angels and Squids

Overlooking the city,
A golden angel stands
On top of a marbled column.
Bruised,
Broken wings,
Highlighted amongst the pale peach mist.
He watches time down below,
Running down the pavement,
Before it disappears inside a drain.
Slipping away,
Like squids sliding into a quicksand.

The moon kisses his back,
Gently pushing him towards the edge
Of the architectural abyss.

He holds on to the sharp borders
Of the tall romanesque column.
He is a sculpture made of white cold stone,
Paralysed between flight and fall.

Suspended like the tiny droplets of water...
Drizzle
Only a step away from ending it all.

The city looks up through the street lights,
Breathing the night under the silver new moon,
Unaware of angels and squids
And so, life goes on…