Shards of Glass

I was as fragile as a vase

made of hand blown glass

that someone carelessly perched

on the edge of a nightstand.


I fell and shattered

into a thousand fragments

like droplets of dew

on the mouth of autumn's morn.


Carefully, tirelessly, painfully

you tried to glue the pieces

of your treasured vessel

back into the correct order.


But I no longer held water,

and the weight of petals

from fresh picked daisies

crushed me.


Windswept tunnels of my mind -

fragile as a hand blown vase.

So busy purging my body -

when it was really my soul

that needed purging.