Washed Away (early teens)

A hunk of clay raw and uneven
I take it with my hands.
It’s soft and pliable.
Into it I pour my dreams, hopes
My time, my soul, my life.
It begins to form a face
Strong and wise
With piercing eyes.
A body firm and flowing
It’s the picture of perfection.
My life’s work
It’s everything I aspired for
Desired for.

I put it in the sun to dry
To harden forever the likeness of my mind.
Alas! The weather is unpredictable.
A storm refuses not to blow
The wind howls, the rain blasts
My perfect statue, my Mona Lisa, my David.
Gone! All washed away
A trickle in the mud of alabaster clay.

I gather what’s left, I cry
For what was there, now gone.

A hunk of clay raw and uneven
I take it with my hands.
It’s soft and pliable.
In to it I pour my dreams, my hopes.......