In the dusty corner orange cracked

In the dusty corner, orange cracked,

jagged edges like broken teeth.

Inside, soil dust dry as ash—

a garden never planted, never grown.

The rough clay feels stubborn,

a shell holding lost earth,

a fragment of a green hope

that never broke ground.

Light slips through the window,

catching rough scars, uneven lines,

painting fractured warmth

on a broken shell.

This pot holds more than dirt—

a weight of failed patience,

a quiet ruin turned to dust

beneath soft morning light.