Algebra factors bored
friends who preferred baseball
thrown and caught, high and low,
through the heart of the house
that pounded hit and miss.
–
Venetian hand-blown glass,
glazed warm with memories,
Modigliani necked,
graceful, fragile icon,
broke like a shattered dream.
–
Dad took Ben’s mitt and ball,
grounded, Ben could not play,
did homework on his own.
What lesson did he learn?
It hurts when your Mom cries.
Elaine Anne Westheimer 
Comments on: "The Vase" (5)
Thanks!
so very loving and beautiful conclusion Elaine 🙂
Poetry from the bits and pieces of life..love ／thanks~
thats what makes poetry more beautiful, when it speaks of life.
E~have a sweet weeken~
J