I do not have these words anymore

that flowed, that danced their way

across the dappled floor

crippled, yes, chipped away stolen

like marble frieze

decorating someone’s hearth on foreign soil

No matter. I am the maker of marble, of the frieze

Of the floor and the dappled light

the leaves that diffused that light

the breeze that moved them that my light would keep moving

the way that I will keep moving

the sun across the sky

you can have the pebbles you prized