Sherry Asbury Poet Rhyme

The Plate

It was such a little plate, 
fragile as a flower
It gave me peace to sit 
and gaze at it by the hour
It had a chip, but then 
people have chips too,
ones that can't be repaired
with the strongest glue
My hands would tremble 
when I would pick it up
Somehow along the way
I had broken the cup,
leaving me with a
single plate to love
and treasure
Old hand shake with pain
I dropped it on the floor,
shattering it too badly
to glue its pieces anymore
Someday, someone will discover,
when I have at last died,
a tattered old envelope
with my broken plate inside

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Chris Green November 28, 2018 at 10:22 AM This was really nice Sherry. I could see this poetic story play out in my mind as I read this today. I really enjoyed this.

Carolyn Devonshire November 27, 2018 at 2:56 PM Oh, your poem gave me chills! Wish you hadn't broken the plate, but look at the memories you have. Nice use of the metaphor for "people" with chips. We all have them. I often wonder what will become of my own treasures when I'm gone, so I'm sharing some of them with friends and family now. This is an awesome write, Sherry! Would love to see it get a POTD