Red-Handed

Adored one,

someone has

systematically

been breaking the molds

of our love;

this precious love

that I,

passionately,

have been attempting to cast.

Last night I heard noises,

coming from the back of the house.

I tiptoed into my workshop,

the moon was reflecting sunlight

at full power.

Amid the fragrance of fresh gypsum

and the cast shadows

of the forms to be,

re-inventing themselves on the walls,

I surprised the scoundrel

red-handed.

It was you

Why

do you do that?