Untitled Poem

by Chucko

Lonely stone sits on the river bed
Visions of sculpture like the currents --
Flow on in my head
With the child’s heart and the old man’s back
I shall carry this stone across the land --
Set in a mule’s pack
With a hammer and a chisel
And in my hand, creation skills of my way
I sculpt the story in this river bed stone
Humble to come what may
And she rocks me now
as she rocked me then
like long lost lovers, companions, and friends
And you can call it hippy, trippy, or zen
But it is just the path I’ve found true
It is the path I am bound to