Glass Poem by Heather Whitley Gibson

the windows are all broken
and the wind is coming threw
do you feel the wind in your bones
does it turn your mind to blue
threw the window do you see sky
in your pocket is a hand
I once touched the the broken glass
the cut was mighty grand

the wintertime covered up by plastic
a broken statue always seem so tragic
the stove turns into sculptures made of glass

the trees they seem to be alive
the branches reaching threw
they seem to wrap around the payne's
creating something new

the kids are all wearing rose colored glasses
they lift their feet out of snow like molasses
the china holding tea is made of glass

the handle breaks off in your hand
while it's your last grasp
I once touched the broken glass
the cut was mighty grand