When you’re reduced to spit water in a fountain, how’s life going on?

Do gargoyles have a heart of stone?
Are their feelings frozen in rock?

Going with the time and the flow what remains when the centuries come as the seasons one after the other?
Can they keep the memory of the cloudy reflections they contemplate at each hour?
Can they see the distorted images of the childish faces leaning over the water to observe them?
Beside them we’re never old, frozen in the rock they’re eternal.

Still and impassive they seem to await the moments we won’t see,
And keep the secret of those we’ve never seen.
Stolen kisses and intimate confession before those silent guards,
Wishes pronounced with the sound of a coin in the water.
Precious things repeating over and over without being alike,
Impalpable treasure for unsuspected dragons.
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