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