A Work in Progress

I’m not just a specimen, pinned to Your tray

You’re examining daily for faults –

Am I?

Not an abject failure, catalogued in Your drawer

Joining thousands suspended in vaults –

Am I?

Not a spatter of dirt appliqued on a shirt

Not detritus that foams and revolts –

Am I?

But a child of Your heart, that You’ve loved from the start

And together we’ll see the results

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