Frit
Broken bits of glass used as color in new glass work
Being conned in love, is hard to admit,
Glass can be reclaimed, wishes not so well,
Dreams die hard, when all you have left is frit.
***
The head may feel, but the heart takes the hit,
Reciprocal feelings? Never, ma belle.
Being conned in love, is hard to admit.
***
Dreams are quite fragile when they’re counterfeit,
One cannot live, thrive, where truth does not dwell,
Dreams die hard, when all you have left is frit.
***
Futures intertwined, fracture at the split,
Dreams are fragile glass, shatter, break the spell,
Being conned in love, is hard to admit.
***
Collapse before a smirking hypocrite?
No, gather fragments, love will not compel,
Dreams die hard, when all you have left is frit.
***
I can reclaim my life from the unfit,
Reshape colored shards to sing like a bell.
Being conned in love, is hard to admit,
Dreams die hard, when all you have left is frit.
About the Creator
Meredith Harmon
Mix equal parts anthropologist, biologist, geologist, and artisan, stir and heat in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, sprinkle with a heaping pile of odd life experiences. Half-baked.
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