I am no potter

How do I touch your skin
with an impeccable tone
and glow that only it has
in the fire that it did hone

for my hands will dirty it
leaving marks all over
for I am no potter here
who knows how to cover

Though I may not toil
each day out in the sun
yet my hands not as clean
as the texture of your skin

Am afraid to hold you tight
for I may deform tenderness
of your lovely innocent face,
and also of hands softness

the clay that makes you up
is clean, clear and my hands
dont have that skill to lift
and put it in the stands

I am no potter, beloved
to put clay, turn wheel
onto your tender heart
or mold that hands deal

I am no potter, my love
for me to know how much
sun is needed to let firm
and yet let you be as such

Dear, Am afraid to hold
for my hands leave a mark
on clay that is fresh cause
I am no potter to hide dark