Don't mind the lyrics

Each morning at the first break of dawn,

She lies in wait, like a withered pawn.

Fixed in time, between dream and day,

She guards the hour, I lose my way.

Golden patches trace over her skin,

Feathers run black, darkeness within.

She shows her back, never her face,

A wistful charm, offering some grace.

Perched like an old habit, she sits alone,

A call to write something, yet unknown.

She means to observe, not to interfere,

A mirror with wings, both far and near.