Let me be the hearth
Where you sit to work your clay
I'll not say
"Shape it like this or that,"
I promise
Let me watch
As you in absolute agency
Mold your mortal dream.
Only sit close
And let me give a little light,
A little warmth.
Yes, warmth especially.
Cold clay yields to no form.
Let me be your hearth.
Sit close.
Be warm.
