.



On a hand-hewn pedestal
imagination coalesced;
on milk-white face alight
eyes sparkled with a liquid flame.

Some build ivory towers,
their hands raw from driven labour,
on scratched cheeks, a stricken eye
ransoms a sculpted orphan dream.

Across time and the Middle Sea
another calloused hand chiselled;
laughter on a pine-white face
resurrected an ailing heart.

Some can only imagine
what others have without trying;
when vicarious journeys fail,
reality's block they will assail.




.
© Frederick Kesner. All Rights Reserved.