Lydia Rowlands

A poem by Lydia Rowlands.

Among the wreck
From which you walked away
I find

Pieces of you 
Within the wretched rubble 
Left behind.

Fragments of a puzzling picture
By a painter
Of a different kind.

I squint my eye,
As painstakingly I try
To comprehend this clue.

A distorted scene
Refracts the light,
The pieces are too few.

The silent shards 
Cut deeper than the sword
Of losing you.

A sour wound,
Inflicted by the parts
I never knew.