A broken picture A broken picture smashed on the floor Shattering the memories which we've known Glass spread out across the empty room The love of life in our faces; can't be shown.
All the memories already beginning to fade We look at what once was a great moment A moment, which will never be remade We pick up the pieces of glass.
The glass pierces our hands deeply Blood spills out over the picture The memory now gone into crimson red That one memory is now as good as dead.
Another poem with a theme from the 50 Theme Poetry.