December 14, 2008
By H.L. Singer, Dixie, GA

You carved me from a great white rock,
You used me as a way to mock,
The fair of face and female birth,
You broke me out of un-cut earth.

You cut my face into its state,
And cut your heart. You sealed your fate.
You carved my flesh to perfect form,
But could not make me soft and warm.

Kiss my lips, but I’ll not awake.
I’m only what you’ve tried to make.
But—something, you’ve still yet to know,
My heart’s beats warm—I love you so…

The author's comments:
This is how I imagined Galatea thought of Pygmalion.

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