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Poem

Pink vase with no design
Dangling there so blue- c'est la vie 
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything hectic
In an apartment rising high skyward
The item lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a railing raw
Languishing over the 20th Floor
Or thereabouts and more
 
The balcony didn't expect such curvatures               
Or fragility on a morning broken
The sunlight nodded approval of course
Around bouncing beams above the surface

But nothing could stop a soft breeze from… 
Poof!.....And off it went… c'est la vie vase
 
An alert Frenchman, pastry smile and all
Happened along with nimble fingers
Stretched out, caressing a baguette bread
And Beaujolais 42 in fragile glass
The other hand grabs out with stress
As if to field an errant football pass

And in that chance encounter…Catch!...
Tumbling to concrete boundaries down
Bottle released in a wincing crash
Ground favored his mortal urgency
Pottery saved - c'est la vie, Intact
 
French man’s head cracked
Let’s say opened, something like an egg
More scrambled than not on concrete
A natural death ensued with the seizure
   
A passerby, identified as a stranger
Seized the moment in a grab
Lifted vase from the newly deceased and fled
Made off down and dirty

An awaiting ally came conveniently placed
To avoid detection from the law and all 
Another fate for vase awaits out there
Less encumbered in a far away land
For dreams of other ledges and escapes
If so inclined as far as we can understand

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