The Potter

 

The Potter’s hands sent the rabbit

Flying across the page,

My eleven year olds grasping

Onto the soft tail of that fearful child.

Wild and stuffy,

I could hardly contain my excitement.

 

Bunnies are fragile like that

All emotional with a families

Filled with children aplenty

 

I often thought of this one

Scurrying in the underground

Away from human eyes,

I think I very well

May have been a bunny

In another life

If there were another life

Would my name remain the same.

 

The potter wove beautiful

Sentiments over my imagination

And I often felt as if I were keeling over

Under the flatlined mockery

Of a sofa,

 

Only I loved it so.

 

Many a night

Did I spend with you,

My white skinned

Black souled rabbit,

With your blue cotton shirt,

 

Many a night did you whisper me

To sleep, like the pied piper.

But you were not a bunny

You were no rabbit,

No hair,

I wanted to be a potter,

And I begged you to show me how.

 

Often you’d laugh,

Closing your mouth,

With a self assurance

Of one who knew her craft.

 

You never said a word potter,

Simply signed the page in your

Scrawling hand.

 

We have one life

And then the stars.

 

Leaving little behind you

But an indentation

That simply said

 

Beatrix.

~Melodic Rose~

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “The Potter

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s