Run me under your fingers
You’ll see that I am dust
I am clay
Just as old men say
I am the dirt beneath your nails
The stubborn, sticky kind
That hides in the corners
Clinging to your warmth
You are stubborn too
You scrape at the edges
Until I give in
I release my grip to reveal what I am
You press me between your hands
Twist me through your lines and circles
I disappear and melt into you
You at once appear as me
We are the same dust, darling
Just drifted in on a different day
We're made of the same clay
Molded on a child’s whim, set out to dream and play
