Oh Little Pot Poem by Greg Gaul

oh little pot, little pot
please do tell me what i'm not
tell me, tell me whatsyagot
may be, may be it's a lot
you may hold secrets 'n stories
tales of lotsa ancient glories
made by native hands of clay
not sired but fired that way
on outside a bright colored glaze
you come in all sorts shapes 'n sizes
inside i think there are surprises
close the lid and go within
to the place nobody's been
it's so dark a place inside
no place to live, just to hide
or is it true they're all the same
with no light blank and plain
find another pot and go in
without sight, new worlds begin
oh little pot, little pot
please do tell me i'm not a lot