Listening to every heart
Handle me as your slab of clay
hold me, mold me,
make me your way,
touch me by night, touch me by day.
Take me, this gray, moldable mass,
give me style,
give me class,
treat me as if thin, crystalline glass.
Sculpt me, draw my mouth, a tender line,
lips so fine,
for sipping wine,
and softly make my eyes tilt, incline.
At the top of my brow trace a strand of hair
held with care,
as if your hand were softly laying there.
But should you lose a moment or day,
do not stay,
your absence will indeed crack this clay.
9 September, 1999
Words will always express our feelings true. ~~~ KRJ
Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow