Monday, November 29, 2010

The Broken Vase

The broken vase

There was once a vase
On a shelf in a room
Kept there by a girl,
It was a family heirloom

The girl loved her vase,
Kept it spotlessly clean
And it stood on her shelf,
Until she was fourteen

Then her life got confusing,
Everything fell apart,
And though her fears where not voiced,
They were felt in her heart

"I hate you" she shouted
As she picked up the jar
And hurled through the air-
It didn’t fly far

With an earsplitting crash,
The old vase hit the door
And split down the center
As it fell to the floor

Her brief rage now over
She saw what she'd done
And tears flooding her cheeks.
Croseed the room at a run.

She realized too late
What she'd done had been wrong;
It wasn't the vase that she'd hated.
But herself all along

She smashed something precious,
Because she was stressed
But how can she fix it?
She'd just try her best.

And so, armed with a glue gun
She toiled by not
To mend the old vase
And put matters right

With the next morning came,
The girl looked at the vase
And a smile appered,
Upon her tire face.

It was no longer perfect,
No need to pretend,
But now stronger than ever
It would last still the end.

No comments:

Post a Comment