A Broken Vase

With a pounding stroke,

the vase went down.

In a matter of seconds,

it was in pieces – red, white, brown.

Red were the flowers, booming inside.

Beautiful they once appeared,

till it shattered, and everything died.

White it had been, up, intact,

glittering, glowing,

it looked very much alive, in fact.

Brown it got as it gradually decayed,

unnoticed, ignored,

in a corner, it stayed.

But what’s the big deal; it’s ultimately just a vase.

It’s not like it’s the only one that fell and broke apart.

It’s just that, may be, this vase was close to my heart.

It’s just that, may be, this vase was closer to my heart.