What Endures From The Iron Poem by Eillio Imbasciati

All his heroes turned out to be statues
Stoic, unrelenting,
Artists in their fields of play who made many faces
Turning to stone for inspiration,
Their feats remain frozen in time,
A time watched, not going unnoticed
Chiseled forms who in appreciation symbolically survey the lands in which they are planted
Maybe heroes are in short supply,
Maybe the wells sometimes run dry
But what endures from the iron is a tap never ending,
As many leading ladies & men of humankind are equipped to follow suit,
Dressed and prepared to author a history to be admired of their own esteem