The Toy Maker

The toy maker sat all alone in his shop A hammer and chisel, on the wood he would chop Moulding and shaving The wood taking shape Until to his surprise formed a recognisable face He stopped and he stared There was no mistake It was her He was silent His voice desperate to speak But the sound and the movement of his mouth Failed to meet In the moonlight by window He held her up high His eyes could not contain Tears burst from inside Who was this lady? I am sure you would like to know She was his mother Lost many years ago In times of aloneness When sadness embarks The hands often make secret deals with the heart Sometimes on paper, sometimes out of clay Expressions appear When we don't know what to say For this Toy maker his sorrow was being alone Until tonight, out of wood as his mother came home.