Broken

Broken hearts,
plastered walls,
cracked vases,
torn pages,
what stands out in them?

A sign of ruin you’d say,
an indication of destruction?
But is that all there is,
a sorrowful dead-end?

The cracked vase still retains
the fragrance of the rose it once held;
The plastered walls still echo
the excited laughter of children playing;
The torn pages still contain
an account of all stories they once said;
The broken hearts still hold
the moments of love they once shared.

But beyond all this it serves,
as a harsh but soothing remembrance
of treasured moments from the past,
A memory of all the joy
that the ruins once held,
and maybe a ray of hope
that like today’s ruins are yesterday’s smiles,
tomorrow’s ruins will also be today’s smiles.

Maybe all ruins are not bad
not all that’s broken is sad…