Song To a Teaset
I love each little plate of blue,
and every cup and saucer, too;
you have been mine for many years.
I treasure you. I wept hot tears
when once a child in careless play,
who knew he should not come your way,
knocked you across the table top.
I held my breath but could not stop
the clatter, shatter: it is true
my heart has been broken same as you.
But just because a plate is glued,
the handle of a cup is, too,
I do not love you less today:
I love you more I would say.
I value you more your fragile art:
you are so like a broken heart.
Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson
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