Die I must today
This, the sculptor, does say, every day,
Chisel and hammer, the shed, the stone
Wait for him, whilst he lies lone.
Unfinished statue of Henry Miller
Nearly done lies the limestone pillar,
Some complete placed in the corridor
Can sure find worth in the vintage store.
“My Papa will die, sister save him”
He hung up the phone his eyes brim,
“Only if I could be free from prison, Lord”
“Only if I wouldn’t have stolen the record”.
As dusk falls, I dim the courtyard light
I ponder all through the dark night,
My mind warns me, wants to refrain
My heart lurches wouldn’t bear the pain.

So, I set to cross the hill
Across the river and the mill,
Where the sculptor lives dead
Die I must today he said.

Weeks pass as I nurse him
He now lives with movable limb,
I tell him I am homeless and poor
Landed in the village crossing the moor.

Die I must today habitual he says
“Oh yes Lewis, we all count our days”
“But you have to wait” I laugh
“You haven’t sculpted your own epitaph”.
“Get up you must now, your sculptors await
Your chisel and hammer and rasp bait,
Cream, white, wax and clay
For your epitaph which one will you play?”
I drift to the kitchen to pour some wine
B’cause I saw Lewis’s eyes shine,
He wobbles his way to the shed next door
Pondering looks down at the floor.

“I shall engrave my epitaph dear
But first I shall get my counter clear,
These unfinished sculptors I will complete
The ones in the corridor go to the Vintage Retreat.”
I rushed to call the caravan man
To help me turn the shed an artist’s haven,
The sculptors line up polished and clean
Vintage Retreat gets back its lost sheen.
Decide I must today
What shall I engrave, he thinks every day,
Strolls towards the Vintage Retreat
His epitaph lies incomplete.

This post is written as the fifth in the series of A2ZChallenge 2019.

#BlogchatterA2Z 2019


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