Shattered
I dropped the vase
And watched it shatter
As it hit the tile floor.
Shards of glass exploded
Outward,
Skidding and spinning
In every direction.
I just stood there
Staring at the remains,
Remembering my Mom's
Wildflowers in that vase
On the kitchen table
Years ago.
She’d picked them often,
I’d watch her from
The window
As she carefully selected
the brightest ones,
Focus and determination
Etched on her face.
She’d fill the vase with
Her bouquet,
Arranging them just so,
And commenting on
How much she loved wildflowers.
But the vase that once held
My mom’s wildflower treasures
Is now broken beyond repair,
It’s glass pieces scattered
All around me.
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