Like An Artist Poem by Jill Julia

Like An Artist

You call me pretty,
But I'm clay.
Shapeless
from the distance
of missing, moving hands.
When you see me
(Please, don't tell me when) ,
Will you lend me yours again?
Mold me a body,
Mold me words,
Like an artist molds his work.

Jill Julia
Friday, September 27, 2024
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Like An Artist
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10/10/2024 3:31:26 AM # 1.0.0

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