left alone
locked in the chamber

he fiddled the stick between his knees
could he be the next piped piper

flung in a corner
books of lore and thunder
would he rather be a scupltor

hands clasped the wooden hammer
everyone stands muted like shadowed corners

waving about these two items
a gesture, a reaction, a display of emotion

in his heart he sought something purer
his vision distilled the rocks asunder

therefore he would daily sculp his scuplture
-nashon

i surveyed the field
what lots should go where
and which seeds should i choose
and what would the irrigation be like

and after the plan was made
it soon be winter's haste
plough to the ground
before spring invades

-nashon

your hairy fur grew
around the edges between the nooks
time goes past
your cause remains the same

you pull out your pipe
fill it with your favourite tobacco
you ask me for a light
i politely decline

-nashon