Broken Urn

Your fingers gently wrap around the searing edgesThe gaps opening in the once whole urnLooking in on life and love, hoping it was your turnBut it fractured, smashed by wayward handsAnd feet, watched over always – from a distanceWatched and occasionally polishedNow it’s broken – beyond repairAnd no glue can fix these holesThese cracked edges, the faded paintThe lost resemblance to anything worthy The grating ceramic stings the spineAs you watch it tear itself from itselfInstigated by gravity, but finished by reluctanceAnd relief, Ornaments survive on shelvesBut the sentiment remains hidden, forgottenDismissed.