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a Baby

small mold of clay

soft and pliable

eager to be shaped into many things

a smile, she gurgles

a cry, he wails

reaching for an impression

innocent of expectation –

for now

where all is new and nothing old

a world to behold and wonder

eager to embrace the awe

clear, blue eyes, she shines

tiny fingers, he waves

gasping for a direction

naive of purpose –

until one day

this creature is poked and prodded

pulled this way and that

forced to grow on the chosen path

it had no decision in making –

will clay become its true own

or just a replica of what was already known

– Written by Miss A on August 27, 2012


About 365 Things to Write About

I'm inspired by almost anything and everything creative - nature, architecture, art, words, music...I like to roam along streets, through foreign countries, and within my mind where the world is full of endless possibilities. I dream of being an idealist, but I've experienced too many harsh realities for that wish to ever be true. Therefore, I look for the hope and the good in small nuances, and I express my thoughts and feelings about the world around me on pages and canvases whenever I can.

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