Glass Jungle

bend down to examine
The broken shards scattered on the floor.
Millions of Me gaze back steadily;
Each a moment of my life just waiting to tell its story.
As I pick of a large jagged piece,
It tells the story of a girl who traveled and fell in love.
A small grain of glass
Punctuates my mind with chatter of a physics class.
As I pick each piece up,
Memories flood my mind –

A jungle of flowers to find your Secret Place – to be alone
Surrounded by the coloring of
Red berries on holly bushes, brushing painted lips on his cheek;
Purple foxgloves fading in the dusky night sky;
Golden daffodils winking like the sun in rush hour traffic;
Bluebells and tulips are the end of a sunrise over a Brasilian sea-side town;
Delicate roses blush with the fragile vitality of new love.

A tame backyard jungle – nothing to foreign or exotic,
Just like broken shards of a favored mug.
Every shard, every bud in this tangle of memories
Is cherished and familiar.