It was fashioned from neither flesh nor muscle,
God curved it from gold and glass.
Woo it, it’s worthy the hassle;
For its gold is of the highest class.
It is modest, not as bold as brass.
It’s fragile, when entrusted to you,
Tend it tenderly — don’t let it mar;
For those that deserve it are but a few.
If you break it, run fast and far;
If you don’t, expect many a nasty scar.
I got it for free,
And to you for free I freely give.
When hurt, to you, it’ll flee.
So promise, that you’ll happily receive
It, and nurture it for as long as you live.
If you enjoyed the poem, give it some claps.
