What Was Not Mine

A delicate piece of art,

Sat upon an antique stool;

Exquisitely designed and painted, it

was beautiful.

I looked at it and looked,

And yet of it I wanted more,

Of the weight, the feel, the patterns, I

had to know.

I reached for it to see it close,

An exotic, flawless piece of art,

That glittered and shone and somehow

had touched my heart.

But it belonged not to me,

The right to touch it was not mine,

And from my fingers it did slip

in no time.

Irretrievable, to be whole no more,

The pieces scattered across the floor,

Oh, I had ruined what I did adore,

and I was woe.

Nina Alahakoon ( 7/10/2003)