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It started years ago,
I was single, just moved to the city,
purchased from an import store
a pair of delicate little bowls
with Asian-inspired blue floral
its sister shattered
during precarious washing
the other remains intact,
every morning dutifully holds
my partner’s granola and berries

Since the first bowls,
my collection has grown
though none of them
considered frivolous or idle
They carry chopped onions,
mushrooms, and parsley
until I am ready to toss
their contents into whatever
is on the menu that evening

Each has been chosen
for some unspoken reason
for the same reason a potter
might fashion a small bowl
from the little bits of remaining clay
that will one day sit
perfectly in the palm of my hand
its yellow painted dots
smiling back up at me

Your Turn. I Would Love To Hear Your Thoughs.

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