Fragmented Memories

The pieces lie scattered, glistening bright,

in the silence they echo, a fracture of light.

My grandmother’s mug, its warmth now a ghost,

a reminder of moments, of family toast.

While reaching for spoons, I fumbled my way,

the handle slipped, and dreams shattered in play.

I kneel to gather what once held sweet cheer,

now all that remains is the sharpness of fear.