pottery
We bind the edges together
Uproot the clay to take shape
Pressing and pinching it in a way
The teacher will be amazed
Burn it in the kiln
And paint it gray
As gray as fog in the fall
As gray as skin showing all
As gray as the curtains in the den
As gray as smoke from a cold mountain
As gray as a lost friend
-aarmaiah
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Every whisper was a cold blue wave goodbye
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