Amber glass glistens with memories
Twelve small bowls hugged like the children
Who tasted the fruity delights.
Colors change with spectral hues
Between the scalloped edges, free of chips.
Short stems gingerly washed through the generations
Like small sugary-sweet faces.
Thirteen bowls full of memories
Fit together like a pineapple puzzle
That nobody anticipates.
Written Rita Ackerman for The Call To Write Class, March 2008