Holy figures hover above my shoulders
Way up high out of sight of prying eyes
Their souls carved into stained glass
Judging mortals by their everyday sins
Unforgiving and cold as the windows that trap them
Immortalised in bursts of colour collecting dust
Observing rusting train tracks and cobblestone
Late-running trains delayed stories missed opportunities
And they laugh with every price unpaid
Smiles forever etched on their mirthful faces
Proving themselves better yet captive
Chasing the unreachable everchanging perfection till the end of time