Play-Doh, by Cheyenne M.

The Play-Doh, cold, like the crisp, fall air
It indents to an exact mold of my soft fingertips when pressed
Playing with it to make anything my mind creates
I let my hands speak the words of my imagination
It reminds me of lazy childhood afternoons
When I couldn’t play with my friends outside
So I’d set up at my table, getting prepared
And I’d start to make my mind’s creation
I’d make anything and everything I thought of
From sun-up to sun-down
Maybe a car or maybe a castle
Until there’s no more daylight
I would stay at the table until I had to go to bed
Despite many a protest from my adolescent lips
I would sleep and dream of the colored clay
All throughout the night
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