Fingers run on the rough and rocky sculpture
Mind rushes to the familiarity of the sculptor
Triggering an instant high of familiar happiness
That could have come true only in the wilderness!
Feelings float high like the flowers fragrance
Filling the room with the beloved’s absence
A stroke here and yet a curve there
The rough fingers would create magic where
The figures galloped and floated in the air
So she believed in the world of artistic flair?
Feeling the dents on the rocky surface
Her senses then go back to the poky face
Tear drop trickles down like a droplet
Alas, love had made her to dance like a puppet!
She wants to rub the mind’s canvas clean
Tainted and hurt from deep within
The eyes close as the senses cling to the feel
Tries hard to get rid of it like a fruit’s peel
Yet the heart clings to the feel of the touch
But the mind pushes its way in
To say, thank you very much.
Open your eyes; it’s a sculptor’s stone after all
With no feelings what so ever, now you know all!