After years of tinkering,
puzzling over the shattered vase
I purposely knocked for the attention
one fitful evening,
I have finally started to see
where things go,
where they once were.

“See how fragile,
how beautiful it is?”
I say to a younger self,
pointing out the delicacies
in the design.

She nods silently, politely,
with eyes that tell me
she’ll understand
when she’s my age.