S.Robinson

Trust, and respect was ripped in two
Like paper, its thrown away
Angels weep around the throne
Hope died a bit today

A tender soul like fragile glass
Like so many times before
Alas the pieces can’t be found
They’re lost on life’s dirt floor

Until the scarred, and bloody hand
The creator of the clay
Who crafted every tiny flaw
Smoothed the breaks away

The potter sought until He found
Every tiny piece of glass
Then gently put them back in place
Till they were whole at last

This piece is fragile, I heard Him say
As He put me on the shelf
Rest a while the potter said
Until I’ve made you like myself

You are weak, but I am strong
I heard the potter say
I can heal your broken heart
And wipe each tear away!