Calloused hands strong yet tender
Gently traveling down the limestone
Painstaking moments but not willing to surrender

A symbol of heritage and a throne

Enjoyment and family all placed aside
A grumbling heart spoke, but silently
The commitment…. he must abide

Suddenly a tender inner voice sets his soul free

Your hands create this cross
But I hung upon one

Humbled by the Master
His lesson’s come............ if only we listen

Patricia Gale

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sculptor-3/