Stone angel draped in ivy,

forgotten and alone.

Crumbling to stone dust,

within your garden home.

The world around is moving,

but you are stuck in place.

The world around is colorful,

but you are only grey.

The greenness of the ivy leaves,

set next to your stone skin,

only make your ashen face, dear,

seem even colder still.

I wish that you could hear me,

stuck in your little world,

where everything is frozen dear,

where everything is still.

But words can do naught for you,

I would speak to no avail.

For nothing can unfreeze you, dear,

and forever you’ll be still.