As a salty drop escaped
The crest of his weathered brow
He set down brick in hand
To leave it free for the desired

Immediately resting above pool blue eyes
Then angling his head back to examine pink skies

Longed for he did, to be taken by wind
That on rare occasion, would cool his skin

Work must be done, he was convinced
So rusty mason was picked up
In cement encompassed hands
And framed an inevitable fall.