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 Beauty
One day a master potter
plopped down a lump of clay,
As he always does he made
this vessel a different way.
After he placed it in his service
he heard a lonely cry,
It was his newest creation
with a tear in his eye.
Tenderly the potter asked
“what’s wrong my work of clay?”
He sobbingly said to the master
“why did you make me this way?”
“I’m not shiny like the others
tall , graceful, or sleek,
I’m short, squat, and drab and
just sit here quiet and meek.”
The potter smiled and said
“you’re beautiful in my sight,
I wanted you just this way
to me you are just right.”
Each one must be different
for a different purpose is given to all,
I placed you where I wanted you
so, You’d be ready when I call.
I have a job for you
a mission of your very own,
You’ll carry to all the world
the way to The Master’s throne.
So, follow me my friend until
your mission is over and done,
Then you’ll have a place of honor
with the Father and the Son.
JRS © 3-28-04
The "Okie" Poet
All poems copyrighted
ã1997-... Spring Creations
The "Okie" Poet
All Rights Reserved
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