Poetry Day 5

Sculptor

I rose from your sod

Oh great Sculptor

I believed you a god

Till you told me another

How you shaped I cannot recover

For who can teach a poor art piece 

To love another

Oh great Sculptor

You pressed your hands onto my face

The only thing I remember of your embrace

For how can you shape stone

That's only partly your own

Oh great Sculptor 

How dare you leave me astray

Simply because I disobey

Preferring the works

That carry your verse

To introduce another artist

With works of the fondest

What a lie of a Sculptor