The Broken Glass

I saw a glass, down it fell.
Coming from a hand who did nothing at all
but, to let it fell beneath the hall.
She held it before hand
When the glass slipped in her tight gripped hand.
It was broken into pieces:
Spreading apart –leaving no traces.
For its parts, to be again, in their proper places.
I wonder why she let it fell,
Telling me how innocent she was. But, I could tell
As a deceit, tears rolled down her cheek.
Conquering my heart where it sought quick
Pity for her innocence as a deceit not to leak.
I saw no reason to believe in her action.
Investigation was in my mind.
Trying to look for answers behind
Breaking a transpicuous glass of its kind.
Foundation of trust and confidence
Should be my move then as I sense.
So, I started creeping into her whole being,
trying to find out the reasons of breaking.
As I was about to uncover the reason
She finally squeaked in unison.
"It was not my fault! It was not my fault!
A xeno has a great gold vault!"
"It was a ravish." Added she.
I was puzzled if what was really
she was trying to tell me.
"Was it a ravish
or the unconscious act to catch a gold fish?'

Poetry by Winston Latanafrancia Soldevilla
Read 535 times
Written on 2007-10-14 at 16:24

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Rik The PoetBay support member heart!
I also like the metaphor of a broken glass. A very intriguing write with a refreshing perspective on the understanding of peoples emotions. Enjoyed the read.

Lea Foverskov
getting to know other people is a long and complicated process. great metaphor - glass and a person. nice read!