Pygmalion’s Bride

Formed by the artist’s solitary heart

Crafted with the truth of his great, fine art

In his chamber in the darkness of night–

Carved of white ivory by the fire’s blazing light–

A man who once scorned affection and desire

And mocked those making prayers on Venus’ pyre.

Creator did touch Stone’s cold hard flesh

And pray his love the goddess would bless.

For, though he’d spurned Cupid’s wicked bow

And arrow loosed for love to grow,

The lance had pierced his frozen chest

But could not bring a beat to his woman’s stony breast.

So for favour from the gods he did beseech

And hoped his whispers to their ears would reach.

He laid his head upon her skin,

Tears forlorn beading from his chin,

When, on his brow she left a kiss,

Leaving love where once was loneliness.


Designed for You


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