Broken, Colored Glass
he gathers bits of colored glass he finds
the odd bouquet of flowers past their prime
the flotsam from the street
once useful in a former time
some torn out pages from a well-worn book
to kindle fires, or take another look
no reason and no rhyme
to what goes in the shopping cart, is left behind
It is a lonely life, but there's no room
to store the treasures others want to keep
to hold them with his own
right there within his mem'ry heap
although he's tried, he'll quietly confide
they simply are not quite as firmly tied
and quiet in his sleep
they slip away in search of climes where they might bloom
from year to year, he travels with it all
the past is down beneath and out of view
then unexpectedly
the cart is overturned, and see
the ground up bits and pieces of his past
those flowers and that broken, colored glass
the light reflected through
prismatic, magical, a painting on the wall
----------
for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 19 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written on 10/20/22
These are 'Mistress Bradstreet' stanzas - 10a:10b:6c:8b:10d:10d:6b:12a
Line 8 of Stanza 2 modified from:
"they slip away and go elsewhere to bloom", which had 10 rather than 12 syllables
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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