Porcelain Vase

Chipped edges, mended bottom
There it sits on my wooden table
A picture of a lifetime
The porcelain vase I inherited from the old people
Against the window it sits
The background outside shows a land
Pockmarked and scarred
In days of peace memories of war stir
What is lost never loosens its grip
I whisper my secrets into the vase
The echoes beat upon its fragile sides
Cracked by time and countless lies
And fade into its deep dark depth
I keep my dreams in its moving shadows
Where no one would think of taking them away
I store all my love and reminiscence and pain
Keep them hidden from public display
Long has the vase been my trusty companion
Ever will it be
Yet always am I anticipating
For the one to come along
The day I will pass it on
The time to give away the vase
My porcelain heart