A PIECE OF PLASTIC CLAY

I took a piece of plastic clay,
And idly fashioned it one day,
And as my fingers press it still,
It moved and yielded to my will.

I came again when days were passed,
The bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.

I took a piece of living clay,
And touched it gently day by day,
And moulded with my power and art,
A young child's soft and yielding heart.

I came again when years were gone,
It was a mind I looked upon,
The early impress still it wore,
And I could change that form no more.

Poem by Iyanuoluwa Grace