Poem-A-Day: Day 44

Lasting Impressions

It’s a life not lived,
or half-lived,
lacking some lasting
impression;
relief in the marble
casting shadows in the detail
of the craftsmanship.

The craft is mere witchery,
boggling the mind,
stewing in the bubbling muck
that resides within the darkness;
the shadows dancing swiftly like a breeze
slowly blowing across the laughable
boughs of memory’s memories.

The memory is world famous,
one at a time,
here, there, neverwhere—
some lasting impression
pressed skin deep in the mud
that’s washed off of a life,
just lived.