(Location: Gothenburg, Sweden)

i liked you better
when you were free,
light as a feather
floating around on me
and laughing gleefully,
the wind said to me.

but then the potters hands
took you,
made you wet and
pressed you into shape.
now there you stand
pretty as a picture
with roses growing from you
and everyone stopping to stare.

you are light no more
but heavy and firm, and
though i visit you often
you don’t float with me
it is so hard for me
he lamented,
to see my love unmoving
and quiet.
break free, he pleaded.

how can i? i replied,
when the potter
has finally made me
who i was meant to be.

About Aditi

My thoughts are who I am and I am what my thoughts make me.
This entry was posted in Foodie Aside., Life in general, Poetry, Random, Travel and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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