the statues of you my
idea of you keeps
casting
in bronze
and carving
in marble, stay
put. Where you leave
them.
On hillsides in mind, down
glens and up canyons. I wander
in sleep and broad waking light
'til I could go blind,
And still see every feature
and angle of you, wherever my eyes
chance and glance. It's like
my idea of you
has a job.
Making legacy scattered
through my every thought.
I don't mind at all.
Who do you think
brings in all this marble
and metal and clay,
provides all the meadows
and valleys and cliffs
to serve as background?
We all do the part
we think we ought.
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