From the fragmented glass now at your feet

Makes me wonder

If somehow there are those who are made weep

For the sake of chilling rivers

Run down their cheeks.

And if ocean eyes have so much use for

Fancy things—why has no one asked of you?

Crusted bits of

Though you did try

Picking up the pieces once before so

You could move on through bitter days

And cry no more.

But if ocean eyes have so much use for

Fancy things—why has no one asked of you?