Pieces Poem by Judy Jones
Pieces
Dip your hand into the warm, shallow water
Gently
There are sharp edges along the bottom
All the pieces scattered across the floor
Some have been polished soft and smooth
From the constant, abrasive current
The pieces that no longer fit
You may try
And I would be so flattered
But I would never ask of such
An unimaginable task
You may try
And find your hands
cut, bruised, and empty
(1/2/10)
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4/19/2024 10:30:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
