Pygmalion

Pygmalion built himself a girl

and perfect in all ways was she,

with shapely silent marble lips

and eyes that gazed on only he.

A goddess saw the sculptor's heart

and as a gift brought breath to her,

but it could not have been too long

before he knew what he'd prefer.

For Galatea had been his,

the only woman he could own -

the only woman he could love

was but a woman built from stone.

The woman had a mind and thoughts

and she could speak them as she pleased.

Her hands could touch the things she liked

and now her feet could walk with ease.

Pygmalion feared she'd walk away

and leave him if she had the chance -

for certainly, if she were free,

she would not choose him for romance.

No other mind had chosen him,

no one could love this sculptor's soul.

He thought to chain her if he could

and keep her thus in his control.

But over time he learned to love

and learned to trust his marble bride,

for they did quarrel now and then

but never did she leave his side.

Through freedom Galatea loved

but her Pygmalion could not own

yet when she was his to possess

her very heart was only stone.