Jigsaw

Falls apart in my hands, colours fading
Pieces hit the desk and bounce, just once.
I pick them up and try in vain;
They will never go together again.

Jigsaw between my fingers,
Pieces scattered over the table.
They will not go together again.
It is hopeless -- all is lost.

Falls apart under my control, no colour.
Pieces hit the floor and keep falling.
I try to reach them and they spin away.
All is hopeless; all is lost.

The End

169 comments about this poem Feed