The Inkwell

I began life as a granite block

hewn from a northern cliff – leaving mum wasn’t fun

the grand artist and i got on for a while

as he and his team chipped away at me

creating a monument to a local dignitary

it was warm in the workshop

and hard as i am

his chisels tickled as he chipped away

with features developed

they put me in a van

and it brought back memories of the sea

I was placed in a spot in the square on the floor

attracting the pigeons, the magpies and more

as the sculptor gave a talk to the people there

and a story of the man i was carved into shared

But after the pomp, the sun disappeared

and the place i was sited – soon cleared

as the heavens opened – I was hard, i was bold

and in the wind and the rain – I wasn’t half cold!