Astounded by the pounds she carries
Clumped together like a crude clay creature
Clearly not God's creation.
'What a beautiful mess this is,
We're picking up trash in dresses'
The words of the song has new meaning
as he thinks of how
to gracefully bow
out of proceeding.
To continue would be painfully impossible.
Yet there she stands, clueless clay creature.
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Comments about this poem (Clay Creature by Israh Sadan )
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