Weeping Angel

In the solemn silver glow of the moon, a mourner in ebony perched upon the desolate rooftops. Her wings, draped in the velvet of night, folded around her like a shroud. This realm, far from the hallowed halls of paradise, whispered secrets of sorrow she was yet to bear. The weight of an unseen yoke pressed upon her celestial brow, etching lines of ancient woes upon her visage. And there, in the quietude of the world's slumber, our tears mingled, a silent covenant of shared burdens beneath the indifferent stars.