Thick and thin strokes of the brush
forming thickets, clouds, scenes by the pond
made precisely with care
with love
Passing under all types of food
used all the time
leaning against the stand
positioning it as the gem of the house
But when it was splintered
cut by lightning
it left its home
and the stillness attempted rememdy
No matter how much we all tried to
replace those old lines or
put them onto new china
it was crooked and wrong
Sitting alone was the stand
purposeless in the dark
yet every time we nearly threw it away
the memory of the china touching it kept it home
Hand-painted china
overlooked
reminisced upon
unforgettable