Stone chill

Rain started, sudden and cold.

I ducked inside the church's deep arch.

The air met me, damp, ancient, and bold,

a stone chill that held its own march.

It cut through my jacket, a profound hush,

not just quiet, but a cold that swallowed sound.

Smelled of old polish, and a silent rush

of centuries settling on hallowed ground.

No warmth inside, just a constant, still freeze,

from floor to ceiling, where light barely played.

It settled in my bones, put me ill at ease,

a quiet too heavy, too long unafraid.