The Plate
I bent over to pick up the broken pieces of the plate,
this was Grandma's favorite plate.
She had gotten this plate from her mom,
it had always occupied that same spot behind the couch.
The same couch we where not allowed to sit on.
It was still like new covered with a thick piece of plastic,
the plastic used to be clear, now it was yellow with age
Beside the couch on end tables there were cut glass bowls filled with candy,
the candy was multi colored with verticle stripes,
they looked like miniture pillow but without the softness.
Like the couch the candies were meant for looking at,
almost to much for an eight year old boy.
I wanted to be a good boy so I only took a few,
they looked better than they tasted.
I walked to the kitchen to find some glue.
I had hoped she wouldn't notice
back it went to it's special spot
When she got home and looked at me I cried and told her it was broken
She just held me and said it was okay
Grandmas are like that
By Richard Lamoureux
"Picking up The Broken Pieces" contest
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2012
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