The Blue Shard

I walked in the city
On a sidewalk
No one near.
Strangely lonely,
Empty city.

In the gutter,  

A glint of sunshine.
I stopped,
Looked. 

Vivid with color

A large shard of glass,
Cobalt blue, shot through
With streaks of scarlet,
Gold, and purple.

Just a sharp sliver…

Of... something.
Thick on one side,
Thin on another,
Sun bright on its curve.

Had this glass,
Been a plate?
Or a cup?
Graceful vase?

I stepped into the gutter,

Stooped down to touch the surface,
Half afraid,
Half admiring,
Of the arrowed, slivered remnant

Something once complete.

Covered with cracks,
Some ridged and defined,
Some fine as a web,
Every part.

How came it?
Who made it?
For what purpose?
This once-lovely thing,
Now a shard?

Slivered,
Cracked,
In the street.
Like me.

Carefully,
Minding fingers,
I picked up the glass and
Held it to the light.

A once lovely thing,
Made for…something,
Its network of cracks caught the light,

I thought it sad to leave it,
I should put it in a fishbowl,
On a window, 
Or a shelf...or...

As I sat on the curb to consider,
I placed it back
On the pavement, 
And the shard crumbled to slivers.