Diamonds stud cool, white marble wings,
Raised intricately in feathered patterns.
Gilded halos polished to sunlit gold,
Yet cold and unresponsive.
They stand on their statue-bases,
Taut as guitar-strings, stone muscles tautened,
Beneath the final, glassy layer of white,
Glossing over every imperfection.
Their stances suggest a silent but passionate yearning,
Hearts of metal not quite frozen,
But almost dead inside.
Outstretched arms and outspread wings,
Never to grab what they seek.