.
Each one of us stand here.
From God we all came.
But He molds each different.
We aren't all the same.
If God is our potter
and we are His clay;
how does He shape us -
how slow is His way?
I run in great circles -
with schedules galore;
busy with children,
opinions and more.
Though time is fast fleeting
each hour of each day;
Lord, mold within me -
great patience, as clay.
©2008 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ganderpoems.org
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