Saturday, October 01, 2005

The Pedestal



Bare it stands
Stately marble
No fault line to mar
Perfection in white.


Draped in velvet
Hiding secrets or

Wreathed in laurel
A champion's prize.


Cold as stone
Unfeeling as marble.


No contemplating mind,
No seeing eyes,

No beating heart,
No ears to hear.


No death to feel,
No one to mourn.

Save angels with dry tears.

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