Upon her hand is where I lay,
My heart enclosed in softened clay,
And wait to feel her magic touch,
That brings me life and gives so much.

Her fingertips will make me smile,
She’ll press and blend, then in a while,
My gleaming eyes and cheeks that glow,
Are sculptured as the “Me” I know.

My hair is combed, I’m neatly dressed,
I’m groomed to be a welcomed guest,
So proud, authentically unique,
An artist’s gift, I’m yours to keep.