When The Heart Whispers

Shards of Glass

I'd rather be accustomed to it by now:

It's just my shadow and I;

My only refuge

In this painful solitude

Of a dark home,

And dusty furniture,

Forgotten photographs

Of a once- happy family

Or what's left of them

buried under marble with

Fresh green grass

And shriveled roses

Scattered around

Like broken, shards of glass.