Old Friends

I met her eyes nervously;
“Hello,” we said at last.
Speaking somewhat superfluously,
Ignoring the broken vase.

“What happened?” She asked,
Her voice a ghostly rasp.
My gaze darted and nimbly masked,
Beckoning to the broken glass.

It fell, as things do.
Must there be a cause?
Things break, it’s true,
And barely cause a pause.

She nodded no doubt,
And glanced at the mess.
“It’s easier to throw out,
Than to fix I guess.”

Should I bare relief,
That she understands?
Yet I cinge from the bequeath
Of old molten sands.

“But people are not things
That do not have a mind;
We are human beings,
Though too can be blind.”

She took to the floor
And helped me to sweep.
The shards my heart tore
And caused me to weep.

She covered my core
In comforting wings.
“We are so much more,
Than unfixable things.”

People can grow,
And love and forgive.
New seeds we can sow;
We can let ourselves live.