Windchime

As though cut by
The ice in her gaze,
The string broke.

The windchime crashed onto the ground,
Shattering into pieces of
Unvarnished, lost ceramic glory.
Pieces too small to be glued
Back together again,
Too large to be lost as
A memory.

Having fallen to her knees,
She noticed tears of blood
Springing like roses
Where her flesh met the remains
Of what once was.

Midnight.
In the distance
Of boundless limits,
A windchime chimed.

�