The vase
From the ground your form is mined
Waiting for the creative to find
Water and clay it's such a mess
Turned and moulded with such finesse
Hundreds of degrees you sit and bake
An exited smile when finished, you make
To stand alone and tall and firm
One solitary piece that will someone yearn
Glazed in colour and pattern so free
Created to be admired by a soul like me
Perfect and unique in your every flaw
I take you in my hand and like you more
Such grandure and status you acclaim
Yet to the eye you are simple and plain
A vessel to be put in unobscured view
The only requirement is to be just you
Upon the mantle in pride you will sit
Until I find the adorning flower to fit
A garnish that compliments your grace
A piece of nature captured in my face
The years grow longer yet shorter they are
And dutifully you sit a companion so far
The dust gets thicker and the luster has fade
The glory is still there from the day you were made
My eyes have gone dim and my hair is thin
So many flowers i have cut and put in
But like me they have had their time in bloom
And in so many years I don't leave the room
Your surface has aged and starting to crack
In the later years I don't look forward, only back
The day has come where the flowers aren't for you
Like all the ones that dried and died, ...I have too..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem