Scars in Porcelain

The vase has cracked today,

a piece has slipped and gone,

I kneel and hold the clay,

the room feels cold and drawn.

A child has seen it fall,

her eyes now wide with fear,

she may remember all,

and hold the cracks for years.

Scars in porcelain remain,

yet love can hold the pain.

I pick the shards with care,

my hands are cut and sore,

the weight of words still there,

they echo more and more.

The glue is weak and thin,

it cannot hide the trace,

but love can still begin,

to fill the broken space.

Scars in porcelain remain,

yet love can hold the pain.

The lines will always show,

the cracks will never hide,

yet through the scars I know,

the vase can still provide.

So fragile things we keep,

though once they fell apart,

for promises we weep,

but still repair with heart.

Scars in porcelain remain,

yet love can hold the pain.