Clay Woman
Clay woman, baked too long
Stone cold, deep red, stand
Clay woman, heat too high,
Brittle with the remnant demand
Too long in the kiln
Not set at bake but sear
Scorched beauty remains,
But not a breath be near
Can't breathe too hard,
Clay woman may turn to dust
Can't look too long
For clay woman may combust,
And above all else,
Do not touch her heart,
Her back will break,
Her wounds will smart,
Clay woman, baked too long
All hope and joy abstains,
Clay woman, heat too high
Can my tears salvage my remains?
poem by Eowyn Aurora
Added by Poetry Lover
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