Twinkling, tinkling,
Fragile and clear,
Tiny little crystal balls
Piled in both my hands.
Each in its tiny bosom has,
Moments of life held entrapped.
A hard wrung tear of my eye,
A moment of pain,
A quiet smile,
A murmur of
A restless stream,
Rainbows in the dewdrops held
In nets of silky cobwebs dwell,
A dear voice calling my name,
A fear assailed,
A thought reclaimed,
The touch of a consoling hand,
Footsteps in the warming sand,
Music gay
And constellations bright,
Shapes of melting wax
In the glow of flickering candle light,
The beating of drums,
The melodious harp,
Stars aglow in the moonless dark,
And many precious moments amassed,
Imprisoned in sparkling balls of glass.
No diamond would feel but ashamed
Of the hollow darkness in its panes,
When placed amidst moments framed,
In crystals of memories unnamed;
Each unique and wonderful,
Each a world of its own,
Invaluable every time it’s reclaimed.
But here, the one I offer you
Is the most beautiful by far
And fragile too.
It holds my trust,
My life, my thought,
The will to live a thousand years
In just a moment, in just a word.
Take it gently,
On it have a tender hold,
For only a word a look from you,
Can shatter it
Into a million smithereens;
And even if we tried to mend,
It wouldn’t be the same again.