China

He picked her up,

As if she were valuable.

As if she were a bowl in a China shop.

But not just any bowl.

That beautiful, antique bowl.

That one that sits on the top shelf,

with delicate, hand painted flowers.

That one that has seen so much,

In so little time.

That delicate, fragile bowl.

With a chip on the edge,

And a crack down the side.

He picked her up.

With care, with precision.

He painted the broken pieces.

Not with glue,

But with gold.

For she is not broken,

She is valued.

For she is not broken,

She is treasured.

For she is not broken,

She is beautiful.