Is this a prose or poetry? I have written it as a poem in mind with a cavalier treatment to a mysterious object (transpired as POT) that was given to me. It turned out this way.

A fragile object
liken to human has
handles as ears, its
paunch rotund head
capped with a silver strip

its limbs dismembered
surface as cool and
calm as the moon
and skin brick red

I ask who 
owned you? Whence
you came? Who
your father, you
smell like clay
Is he potter 
who mould you? 
to make his
ends meet

your scent that of
rose-water, are you
a servitor of roses
whose sweat you quaffed?
tell me your
source, O rosemary

you look so despair, you
lost shine who
owned you? Do
you belong to some
wretched soul forgot
to live?
Tell me your whereabouts
O fragile one

I know no antecedents
says the object uncannily, I
belong to you whoever 
you are, take me
O magnificent one

burnish me with your
love and cradle me
in your arms,
O munificent one
so I shine in your
life as
lustrous as sun