Poem: A Choice of Stone

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A Choice of Stone

“Concrete.” the guide tells me
as my hand rubs against the lion’s head.
“It was all the rage. A new material.
more valuable than marble for a time.”
Your fingers feel the pits.

It is a noble enough beast,
Shaggy mane. Noble brow, The Victorian’s idea
of what a lion should look like.
You can imagine him new in the garden,
taunted by small children, admired by their parents

Your fingers miss the marble,
statues from the other homes you have seen in your travels,
smooth after eons, losing none of it’s nobility or warmth.
Heros made of the stuff are still heroic.
The women still desirable in their stone carved perfection.

Choose your stone well.
The fickle fashion of the time wears less well
than the proven stone.
Somehow, the soul knows the difference.

 

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