Fragments of What Was

In the kitchen, a crash rings sharp as a bell,

a glass slipping through fingers, oh how it fell.

Each shard scattered tells stories of care,

of promises made and those lost in despair.

They glitter on tiles, memories laid bare,

remnants of moments we wish to repair.

An innocent slip, yet echoes run deep,

for every promise broken, a shadow to keep.

I gather the pieces, reflections in sight,

how fragile our holds, how dim is the light.