Oh, my solitary pillar

Carved of purity and passion,

Standing deftly by,

Watching and holding

Supporting and resting,

How many wish to lean on you

Feel the strong, smooth contours

That make your architecture,

Placed cleverly among the

Walkways of people

Constantly gazed at

Passed, viewed, and envied,

But which of these passer byes

Can appreciate the delicacy

And intricacy with which

You were molded, from the very

Elements of this mysterious

Universe?

Dare say I few or none,

Perhaps not even the critics

Who argue over your alluring greys,

Your subtle blacks, and soft hues

That stand out separately, blending

Together in an unforgettable design,

Holding within that which is more

Than the eye can behold,

That which makes my pillar stand

Shine and gleam, as I caress

You with a knowing hand, having glimpsed

And tasted

The rare treasures underneath.