In her hands is a ball of clay

She rolls it in her palms

And with her breath, warms it

Making it easier to mold.

 

With her thumb and index finger

She makes each arm and leg

And with each move deliberate,

She puts it all in place.

 

The head and neck are the last she adds

With eyes, mouth, nose, and ears

She shapes each one carefully

To see, speak, smell, and hear

 

Eyes intent on her next step

She smooths the bumps and lines

She's nearly done with all her work

But for the next design.

 

With thought and love, she takes one more

Piece smaller than the rest

And molds it into a little heart

And puts it on its chest.