She sits there gracefully
And petite on the small table.
Her eyes are clear like water
And her smile is carved into her face.
Her dress is made of the purest silk
And most intricate of lace
Both originating from the most exotic and foreign of Countries.
His skin is pure porcelain
And her features are painted with oils.
When I saw her upon there,
I could not help but feel jealousy
Enter my mind
For I brought her into this world
And is therefore mine.
I should not have abandoned her
Or sell her to that
Irresponsible buyer.
I am your creator.
You are my creation.
I have brought her from the depths of that furnace,
Burning her soul into that vessel.
Why should I give you up?
YOU ARE READING
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Poetrypoems (possibly stories) relating to art, which can range from painting to pottery to drawing and much more purpose is to evoke emotion i hope you enjoy reading it! feel free to comment suggestions, tips, or stories you want to hear about PLEASE NOT...
