Shapes

I cannot get the shape to fit, what am I doing wrong?

I press and push to no avail, it will not yield my touch.

Ponder, question, wonder why, how to bend the form to will?

It is not the shapes, my child, that need to change

They are set in shape and stone.

Take what you have, the clay and sand – and work the world around

Thoughts and hearts, minds and cares, and see the change abound.

One small piece, one at a time, build on solid ground.

And then one day, you will see, you will find –

The shapes all fit and beauty has been

Found.

Mother, I’m Waiting

My mother visited my dream last night

My child where have you been, she cried

“It was not me that went away,

I’m always waiting” – my soft reply.

My mother left, she flew from me

In the dark of night

Through a starry sky

Days have passed, years have too

I’ve waited waited waited

I’m waiting still

I’m waiting for my mother’s

Sweet return.