Broken Glass

I held you in the small of my hand, just as the glass you were. The past surroundings and torment of the ocean in all its natural brutality had shaped you into something glorious. You may of seen it atrocious how the waves had smoothed you into quiet gentle beauty. But then my grasp, knowing so well that increasingly tight would send you soaring away, yet loose would let you slip and drift. I saw I could admire your sweetness of color and glow momentarily and so it goes. I've found peace.