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.