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Cameo
by: Randy E. Chambers
Sculptor's knife held
steady in hand
gently, methodically
excavating to reveal
treasures hidden in the sand
of onyx pools,
deeply concealed.
Scraping, chipping
with jeweler's touch,
so not to crack the fragile find,
peeling off the milky shell,
to bear the soul contained inside
a layered chalcedony well.
Freed from wraps
of stone, she now
can raise her head
in darkened sky;
while ghostly glow
emitting from her form,
reflects soft,
within her maker's eye,
and sinks into his breast
to keep him warm.
The cutter's callused fingertips,
tenderly touch,
to brush along her cheek,
and wipe away the dust, as if a tear,
as if a mild caress
could more than speak
his love for her,
as if she could also hear.
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