ANONYMOUS.

Bare, it stood in the corner, abandoned
He sat staring at the empty canvas
Brown with dust...
In that smoke filled room
Waiting for the light or just a ray.
They had all come and gone
At the time had served his purpose
As his muse and warmed his bed
He remembered them all
Every curve, the textured skin,
The smooth and the rough edges...
Master of his game,
He had brought them alive
Breathed life, color and feelings;
Once at peak of manhood, ego and creation
Now, a well dried up and wasted
Life was just passing by
Minutes, hours, days, cannot tell them apart
Waiting...for what? Divine intervention?
Rags to riches and riches to rags
Life is a wheel...
Why can't it be a straight line?
Waiting...for the life to ebb
Born anonymous...will perish anonymous
With a life in between.


For - NaPoWriMo My attempt at ekphrastic poem.