A maintenance

I cannot push you
cannot will you to do what I want
it isn't my place
I cannot sit by wayside
and try to keep the clay
from crumbling off
because

I did not form you
you did
and others did

And you did not form me
though
I wish you would try
You do not have a sculptors heart
But that of an appreciatist
of art

And I have the sculptors eye
and no arms

I hope you do not crumble
I don't want to see that
to see your youth and beauty
not only fade away
but never fully realized

But I cannot save you
You can.

I cannot even convince you
to save you
only
You can.

I have to look away
and hope that every time i look back
you're still there
like i remembered.