Glass
Late at
night
when the
house had closed its eyes
and I
stepped with hesitation
to protect
the silent air
I dropped
a glass,
clear and round
and it
clattered to the ground
shattered
as I knew it would
and settled
moments later
strewn
across the dim lit floor.
The sound
had been enormous
no respect
for sleeping world
but the
glass was now a
landscape
of shards and slivers,
a veil of
pale moonlight
dancing on
it from the window.
And as I
watched it glint and shimmer
I could
only help but wonder
if some
things
are more
beautiful
only after
they’re
destroyed.
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