scrap #10

The Art You Made Me

My dear mossy friends,

I was the canvas upon which you captured smiles

In a world that praises cheapness you valued human wiles

My form now marked by fingers that sunk deep

Into flesh carved like stone by kisses that stole sleep

It means, it meant, from your sculpting I was wrought

The art that you made me into, for no price can it be bought

As they say that an artist comes and goes

Of the came and the gone, your artistry shows

All of my being holds the markings of wear

And the art that my body is, reminds me you were there

Sincerely yours,

Bella C. Reynolds