i was born today many years ago . .
i am told it was difficult for ma ;
it may be easier if she let go.
i'm a fine one to talk . . i still miss pa.
life's a mystery which deepens in time
- a scent of she who'd give paper to thee
for her portrait so sad it seems a crime
yet whose commission helps one become free.
We are not all liars cheats thieves and swindlers ,
some of us work for a living ; not me -
i play with words, colors, stones and jugglers,
keeping my jugular where you can't see.
where i'm from love's so hard sometimes it hurts;
better that than fakes whose worth clocks in hertz.
jts 17 september 2014
more at http://stoneartist.com
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