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There stands a fortress from the past
From whence a memory always lasts
The subject stares through lifeless eyes
Yet wants to move and almost tries

It all begins within a shop
Where not a single subject talks
Positioned on these lifeless frames
Never feeling threats of pain
Above the door in banner bright
Reads “Taxidermist” day or night
Some say he’s of a dying breed
The artist few will ever need
But from his heart he works with pride
From bird to fish to animal hide.

In they come from field and stream
Fulfilling boasts of boyhood dreams
From small to great, they’re all the best
Each one greater than the rest
It’s not the kill that thrills them all
As they hang them on their wall
It’s most the memory hence they come
As good times shared by father, son
As buddies tell the story right
It somehow grows throughout the night
By the time his story’s done
His fish has grown from pounds to tons

Nonetheless they all hold true
To woods and lakes and skies of blue
The taxidermist does the rest
To etch in stone the sportsman’s best

Still the artist with his hands
Can only toil with God-shaped plans
Man can never copyright
What God has given breath of life
And so with creatures great and small
God remains above them all

By Dave Newton



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