There I was,
a tarnished piece of nothingness,
just another fowl crumb of an existence,
with all the potential of a rain gutter,
yet still, you chose me.
You unearthed my shameful soul
and held me lovingly in the palm of your hand.
Then, after peeling away mounds of corroded debris,
I was no longer a piece of blackened chaff.
Instead, I became your prized gem,
an anomaly I hadn’t foreseen.
And your sovereign hand still continues,
to unfold each gossamer petal of my potential,
showing the world what real love can do.
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/landscape-sky-dark-clouds-storm-342149/
Her Writing Haven 