They told me I was born of Adam’s rib,
bone of his bone,
flesh of his flesh,
but I don’t believe it.
Bones are hard.
I am soft,
yielding,
easy to bend.
I think, instead, I was molded
from soft clay of the earth,
that God’s fingers glided gently over me
when He shaped me in my Mother’s image.
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Very nice, Kim..:)
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Thank you, George. I’m not a poet. I found this in my Word documents written in prose and decided to turn it into a poem. I think I originally intended to write a short story. Thanks for reading and being supportive.
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That would make an interesting short story. I’ll be waiting for it one day..:)
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Wonderful. 😎
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Thank you! That means a lot coming from you.
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You’re welcome.
I look forward to reading more
of your poetry.
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I really like this poem Kim! And it makes a lot of sense to me….
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Thank you, Ann. Happy 4th of July!
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You, too!
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