She Bowed Her Head

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She bowed her head,

Hand either side of a silver bowl.

Inside her emotions,

Flowed until almost over the edge,

Or ebbed until a tiny drop in the bottom.

Even the colours were constant in their changing.

And she watched.

Waiting until they were just right,

So she could swallow them again.

Grains Of Sand

  

You were a stained glass window, 

As unique and beautiful as a firy sunset.

But you’ve been broken. 

Shattered.

Ground down,  

And changed. 

All that’s left of you,

Are grains of sand,

Lost amongst the others. 

But with the right fire,

You can rebuild yourself.