The plate I cracked now holds my meals

The plate I cracked now holds my meals,

a glint of light from its worn, chipped seals.

Each bite I take, a history shared,

reminders of love, of meals that we bared.

Though edges are frayed, it still holds its place,

a canvas for comfort, a memory’s grace.

In the clatter of forks, our laughter still spills,

through cracks in the surface, my heart gently fills.