reaching hand

You take, shape, mold me
You hold the raw material tenderly
and say ‘..this has potential’
I am a child.
I am underfoot and in the way.
I cannot stay within the lines
but I am so eager to help
You cannot resist me.
I am kind of cute and You
delight in my delight.
Surely this will be slower, more work,
not turn out quite as You intended
Surely this will be perfect.

Talitha Fraser