Sonnet: The Sculpture

Source: The MET

He mindlessly walked deep into this sea

First meeting her strong sound, color and scent

Bold for a weak man to be such carefree

Unwelcoming waves, strength is overspent

Soaked in stolen, scattered parts of her, too

Built his own that resembles the greater

A collage of dusts from things that subdue

May ooze out short lived scent but no vigor

Even after hits by returning waves,

He wants same echoes from this piece of work

In her it may be, nothing he craves

Lost and broken, the man is in the murk

The man molds it again to ask the same

But Galatea, that is not your name