The Pretty Polish Plate


Polish Pottery

Four odd fragments,

My pretty plate slipped from my hand,

Crashed to the floor in front of the fridge

Before the door even closed.

It was too pretty, with berries of  blue

and poppies of orange.  I used it often

To enjoy its prettiness as I lifted food 

From the plate to my mouth.

Carefully I washed it and set it to dry for the next use. 

Now it lies there until I decide whether to wash and

save the pieces to use in a collage of sorts, or shall

I just sigh and throw it all away?

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