Broken Window

shattered glass glints of sunlight on a once whole window no more to look through no more to illuminate the swirling afternoon's clouds of rising tobacco smoke the now cold cup of coffee the doorbell that doesn't know to ring the knocks that never arrive the sturdy home of countless years now only a sad memory of an old, ailing man no more to sit, amazed enthralled by falling snow no more to keep the chill from a love laden home I hold a tiny, shattered piece of glass sole remnant of what was a once mighty bastion, protector against the wind but comforting admitter of nature and life of lives and loves, and lies combined do they still resonate within just beyond my view? which is real? sparkling emanations of the past or my disconnection from my once so different reality? the snows of my memory are warm, soft, cushiony powdered flakes of time the icy chill of "now" seems most ghostly the sinking ship rudderless, anchorless drifting towards the rocks of fate and its ultimate end I pick up a shard of glass I squeeze it in my palm a sad smile of remembrance a surrender to fate, crosses my face I squeeze the piece in my palm blood drips the life essence flows the window is once again open I can see clearly now.