Stunning grace
Birthed from bony hands
And boring marble
the mars of age
only add to unearthly beauty
no flesh could ever posses
One of those mysteries
Time conceals with contempt
Secrets clasped in hidden arms
That perhaps by now
have crumbled away
Did fine fingers offer
An apple to tempt fate?
Or simply reach outstretched
To embrace foolish mortals
in love?
In all these years she still
Warms the coldest heart.
Our Aphrodite of Melos.
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