Moon Carver
There was once an old man,
That carved out moons,
He made them for all to see,
Yet gained no recognition,
He would sit on his chair,
And polish rocks he picked off the ground,
Then he would let the sky take his collection,
Of things he gave value to,
A humble life, a humble beginning,
A quiet world it is,
For the man who loves solice,
A man, who carves out rocks.
-Zepyhyr Waltz
















