Work Text:
Soft young hands
Work tirelessly as instructed
By old callused hands
And grey wary eyes.
Soft and gentle to his loved ones
But aged and haunted by time.
Taught he is to make his heart
And young he is to give it away
As while it seem to be shoddy pot
That will grow overtime as will his mind.
within the soft clay and rough wood
Is laced a meaning in the foundation.
Despite how he won’t admit
The joy he gets when one likes his work
He pours out his soul into his creations
And when gifted to others does he want them to stay.
Young to gift out his heart.
He still does.
Those young soft hands
Have became callused over time
But young he still is.
Now it’s less so of the meaning
Can never convince people to stay
Hell knows he’s tried
But what’s laced into the fibers is another
Hidden as it is with how distant he is
But nonetheless still there.
“I love you”
“I love being around you”
“I love your company.”
“I love your smile.”
And that old meaning has morphed into something new.
“I’d love for you to stay.”
And maybe eventually someone will.
He at least knows he was loved by the callused hands who taught him.