I'm a piece of work.
A block of marble,
A bit of rock;
A driftwood face
Waiting near a dock.
Or a song
Without refrain,
That you won't
Hear again.
A pattern, pinned
For sewing,
A garment fit for stowing.
A man in queue
Looking back
At you.
A canvas smeared
With gesso,
Leaning near a frame,
A sonnet
Missing
A rhyming couplet,
An octave and a sestet.
I am
A work
In progress.
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