sculptor

His hands moved
Swiftly over the stone,
Holding the hammer and the chisel,
His eyes blazed like the sun.

“My masterpiece”, he whispered,
And smiled a million smiles.
From the corner of the lit-up room
She gazed at him with reverence in her eyes.

“Do you love me like you love your statue?”
She asked, speculation clouding her brows.
With playful eyes he said,
Equally he loved them both.

Irritation evident and stamping her foot,
She left with with words for arrows.
Said she’ll be back the day
She sees that look for her in his eyes.

“Come back!” he said.
Wishing she could read his mind,
For he knew the shape
That the statue took under his adept fingers.

It had her almond eyes and the sparkle,
Her body and her curves,
Her full lips and the slender neck,
Her flowing hair and the flashing smile.

“Come back!”, he cried
Wishing she had the patience.
For he knew that she and the statue were the same,
And so was the look in his eyes!

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