The little girl surveyed the mess

Broken shards and litter,

Here, there and everywhere;

Looking up to me, she said

“You are worse than me,

That’s a right melee!”

And she was right –

For the things she’d held tight,

Close to her little heart,

I’d let go of, because it hurt

To carry them;

I’d meant to ease

The increasing burden,

Instead, they lay there, broken;

And so was her little self

As if she’d never mend.

Image Credit: Photo by netaly reshef on StockSnap