Shattered pieces on the floor,
The pot’s not useful anymore.
Sweep it up into the pan,
Then put it in the old trash can.

As he passes on his way,
Just another gloomy day.
He sees the broken pieces there,
And wonders why life’s unfair.

He picks them up and takes them home,
And lets his thoughts begin to roam.
These little shards of broken clay,
Have much potential, he would say.

He lays each bit out on display,
As he begins to work and play.
What it is and what can it be,
With some time, a piece of pottery.

Copyright March 2017