Making amends

Raindrops fall to earth and gather,
Free to flow but pooled together.
One night a hard freeze grips the town,
And London Bridge is falling down.

17 April 2011

Picking up the pieces

There it lies––shattered, broken,
Like some nebulous fragile glass form.
“I didn’t do it,” you exclaim,
“It was him!” “It was her!”
“It was that pesky thing from across the street!”

Ah, yes. Let the irrational finger pointing begin.
Of course; I believe you.
Just that I was there, watching you.
Just that I was what you did.
But you adamantly deny it.

What can I say?
After all, I am only the dust
Remaining from a tree, cut down,
Only shards and fragments on the floor,
Waiting for the dustpan and the brush.

But who are you? Do I know you?
I look harder, and then it dawns on me.
You were me. Or, rather, I was you;
And my soul, your soul…
There it lies––shattered, broken.

6 April 2011