Head on the concrete
like glass on the floor.
Shattered pieces show
a reflection from each.
Every blood drop shed
on the newly jagged edges,
shows a different image
of that glass that is no more.
The people rush around,
each grabbing their small piece,
“I knew this part well you see,”
and “see this piece I found?”
While she picks up the biggest section
‘Cause she certainly knew it best,
and sees in it, her own reflection,
before laying it to rest.
In Loving Memory of Trevor Waugh
June 7th, 1985 – November 11th, 2010
