Silver pigeons rose in a cloud.
Sunset's fingers - a golden spell,
Tongueless whispers fell as a shroud.
Through stained glass, broken, incense flowed,
It's sombre scent crept in a mist.
Memories of the dead are showed -
Only in darkness they exist.
This was a challenge set by a friend - I was given the first line and told to carry on from there.
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