A Statue

So it is now that I feel as a statue eerily unchanged

Just a little wear, it is, on my edges

Where the marble becomes rough

Who knew that hail could come down so strong?

Or perhaps it was the wind's doing, it's changes blowing by so fiercely

As to lift the carpets from the earth

Tear the blueness out of the sky and

Poison the waters to make them black; whatever suits its chilly fancy

As winter comes like a stain on your white blouse

My mind unsullied and unfurling as I

Try to grasp what I was so accustomed, so used to having

Too sore to lose as leaves layer over my stone pedestal

And so my fingers, reaching, chip from it

My knees corrode and buckle

A cloud's tear falls to my cold cheek

And my rock foundation trembles and wedges a crack between marble

Perhaps it was the leaves doing all along, as they fluttered about

Methought they were always green, how foolish and now

They rust away with autumn's touch

Crumbling at the breeze; too weak to brush

Or the sky, maybe, as it had always seemed so blue over me

Until the charcoal clouds rolled in one night

When the criminals came to spray, stain and desert me

And to think I'd believed smiles were born from goodness alone

It could've been the train, so peaceful it was as it rumbled along

And now comes the whistle screaming

Shuddering me

Breaking and bewildering me

And here stand I

A marble statue a bit broken and roughened

With a stain scraped cheek and a cracked, chiseled stand

Still shocked that what used to be so friendly had come to harm me