Miniature Masterpiece

People gathered around and grouped together, to gaze upon the ship.

It was so delicate and detailed,

So small and striking,

It was a show every day at the window.

But I knew when the show was going to happen.

It was at 7 o’clock, with the dark dreary night sky that swallows the only few dim street lights that appear.

It was at the window where a spotlight glistened gold onto the delicate dashing ship,

It was the warmness of the showering golden spotlight I could feel on my cheeks that kept me through the cold gruesome night.

It was the man that came to diligently work on the stunted stunning ship,

It was the tiny sudden movements that made the ship so visually extravagant.

With his long lanky tweezers that squeezed through the bottle,

With his magnify glasses that zoomed onto the teensy trapped ship,

With his careful mindful hands that groomed the superb schooner.

It seemed he was never done, as he wipes his face with a filthy handkerchief.

I knew he was tired as he rubs his raw, brittle hands.

He was done for the night.

As he slowly stands up and rearranges his glasses we looked at each other,

In that sudden moment I will never forget

We exchanged warm small smiles.

As he turns off the spotlight, I gradually ramble my way home,

As I curiously wonder about tomorrow night.