Galatea (Remove filter)
Inward Reasons
`
On a hand-hewn pedestal
imagination coalesced;
on milk-white face alight
eyes sparkle with a liquid flame.
Some build ivory towers,
these hands raw from driven labour,
on scratched cheeks a stricken eye
ransoms a sculpted orphan dream.
Across time and Middle Sea
another calloused hand chiselled;
laughter on a pine-white...
Wednesday 30th March 2011 9:53 am
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