Shards

By Sumedha Sawalakhe

Pieces of me…

It was like the vase

with fissured grace .

It was beautiful with ,

broken brace .

These are the pieces ,

pieces of me ,

roaming around everywhere

like crumbs in the air .

They are pretty yet broken ,

today or tomorrow

they need to be spoken.

So ,that they won’t hurt

those beautiful pieces won’t sunk.

Anyhow ,those pieces

needs to be fetched

before they get wretched.

But with care,

Those edges are sharpened ,

with past flood,

that a careless touch,

would cast blood.

Don’t worry

Those pieces,

pieces of me

won’t just harm,

with hope to heal

they are still warm.

Those pieces of me

wants to heal,

with everything inside the seal

To make one again ,

Again,

To stand it is,

From pieces to a piece

Blowing the grace cards,

Arised, Aroused………...

From the pile of Shards.

By Sumedha Sawalakhe