Sculpture Amongst Wildflowers
in a field of wildflowers lingers a sculpture
marble amongst reds and blues
hues that vibrate with features well defined.
on a rainy day,
water slides down from stone eyes
for then, when the sun peeks by
the field feels more alive.
erosion is inevitable, so they say
but every day that I witness the grove,
where these wildflowers roam,
life still lingers
from the tips of the finger reaching up
the sculpt' holds, being unmarred,
visibly.
as night folds over
flowers hide, and the sculpture fades
woven into the tapestry of the cycle
spinning 'round the wheel,
when erosion takes
composition grasps.
hollow being I am, I ponder
in the field of wild, does the sculpt'
marble clad soul
mirror hollow or whole.
7/9/23
RadioactivePoetry 