Clay

This poem was originally published on 17 November 2015.

Let me be your clay,
Though be aware of my colours.
There are much too many,
Which keep spilling into each other.

Do be smart in your choosing,
For if you put all in,
You will get a dark colour,
A visual din.

Nobody likes the darkness.
It is something they cannot unravel.
You and they will avoid this piece,
Eventually leaving me for gravel.

Let me be your clay,
You can mould me as you please,
But if you are not gentle,
I will fold with ease.

And once deformed,
Try as you might,
You will keep making dents,
In your attempts to make me right.

Work with the wheel,
Do not make me like the others.
I refuse to be placed on that shelf,
And be welcomed as a brother.

Let me be your clay,
But do not prod me till I dry.
Otherwise you will leave me with dimples,
That will need to be covered by a tie.

Let me be your clay,
But not your play dough.
I want to stick to your heart,
Not the window.