Friday, December 9, 2011


Sliver of glass
jagged in my palm
glows pink, golden,
beautiful reminder
of handblown bowl.
Shattered memory
brings hot tears.


  1. I identify the feelings in this poem as my own when 40 years ago Bill broke a wedding gift, the prettiest thing I'd ever owned. He searched and searched to find a like bowl and finally found one similar. I have more good feelings about that bowl than the first one because he felt the need to replace it. I like your Sliver of glass that gives a lot of meaning.

  2. Beautifully touching, Victoria.

  3. How sad this one is, Victoria! I have things of that nature too and hope they are not shattered. Guess I should take photos of them!