The Changeling

At dawn I looked
with eyes wide open.
The brown of his hair had
snow-stormed to wintery grey

crowded out to God knows where,
to join a master work
in perfect granite,
the finite features
raisined to roadways
buckled into nose and cheek and brow.

Somehow spared by nature's cruelty
were steel blue eyes
that walk my dreams
and lips that taunt and tease.

Where was I when all this happened?
Here, a changeling, too,
and robbed as well?

Today
when morning kissed my eyelids,
I felt blessed
it reached across
to touch his, too.

by C.J. Heck

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