NY Sonnet #4

Glorious darling, who glorified you?
Your ingratitude inexpressible.
Who dressed you in pretty clothes and boots too?
Who declared your work inestimable?
The exultation of your art and life,
So why not treat Pygmalion with disdain
On behalf of a wicked faithless wife?
How cruel, unusual, stupid, insane.
Will you ever know such strong devotion?
Ever create such beauty on the stage?
Attain again exquisite emotion?
For in a moment it will come - old age.
It was my utter joy to give you all,
Your debt to me is your soul's rise and fall.

Pygmalion is the sculptor, not the sculptee of mythology.