Fingertips pressed upon cool glass,
they squeeze attempting to dip
into transparency,
pushing through a daydream and
allowing small ripples to free
bubbles of excitement,
locked away when that old smith
began rolling this blazing hot sand.

Face up,
squash and contain, pleading forward
to this barrier beyond
that coats a mist, over and under
trampled passages,
the footsteps fresh and overwritten
daily, no following prepared
just broken flower, leaf and tree.

When smashed,
when shattered shard and hardwood
head meet as one,
this protective, this directive, stows
away in future berth, carried
so gentle,
tears pool in cupped hand.