David By Michelangelo

A pallid boy Erected upright Grasps a stone ensconced in fleece fabric, Suspended over his steely shoulder. Resilience and brawn Permeate through His ashen upper lip And stout limbs. Embossed thick veins Travel from his waxen wild curls To his splintered toe nails, Endlessly pumping adrenaline Into his sturdy body. Catherine’s tinkling giggle Chimes in his mind. Along with the vision Of those coffee-colored specks That are scattered Throughout her fair cheeks And dainty nose. There is no way this babbling mammoth Will prevent him from seeing Her alluring visage again. He drinks in a gulp Of the distressed atmosphere And lets it descend To his hammering heart. He’s ready for battle A piece of flawed marble Constructed into a masterpiece, That recounts a timeless tale From the pages of the Good Book. All done By a lonesome soul. Not all of the inhabitants of the past were compliant pagan peasants.