Lichen On A Stone Poem by Sally Sandler

Age comes upon the stone
dressed as lichen, paper thin,
the delicate rosettes slowly
etching into marble skin.

A symbiotic work of art...
was that the stone carver's design—
the work matured by nature's hand—
or had he other plans in mind?

Much the same, the scars of living
gently gnaw at our façades
until our ages are engraved,
and youth is but an old charade.

We could acid wash the stone
to rescue it, and try to slow
the certain steady scroll of time...
or let the graceful lichens grow.