Sweet Things Under Glass Poem by Carolyn Brunelle
Sweet Things Under Glass
From shadow
A wounded, angry child
Abandoned in the fields
Of childhood
Learned to forgive and trust
When a beautiful garden
Was planted there.
Now we sometimes visit coffee shops.
I drink hardy exotic brews;
She samples the
Sweet things under glass.
I write as
She tells me
Her secrets;
A world of things
From her heart,
In the light of busy souls
Who don’t even notice
We are becoming whole again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/16/2026 5:31:45 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
