Since no-one wants to post anything and I've been gone for a month here's somthing to comment on...

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A pretty, porcelain container.
A smooth profile,
A silhouette of soft perfection.
Containing:
A bouquet of faded water lilies,
Spilling, lavender reflections;
Condescending patterns,
Mildly, across an empty room.

Projecting only, the soft, still glow, of life.

It looks so beautiful.
But . . .

It’s not so beautiful.

Because,
Every special thing inside could fall,
After all.
Leaving only,
A broken vessel.

And so,
What was once, so ravishing,
Becoming brown,
And withering.

And lovely things, perishing,
Prove that love, and life, and joy,
Are not withstanding.

These things lie exposed,
And dyeing.
Beside their broken vessel.

Trying to find their ground,
And grow.

Trying to hold on,
And not let go...

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