Marbles
- sn pubs
- Aug 29, 2018
- 1 min read

Tiny glass spheres
Each with a small burst
Of vivid colour
I see my whole life
Reflected in these miniature globes
As a child
Flicking them across the hot sand
Claiming them from other children
With raucous laughter and shouts of ‘I’m the winner!’
As a teen
Coming across them when I cleaned out my room
Rolling them absentmindedly in my palm
And thinking of simpler times
As an adult
Older, but not any wiser
Watching my children play with them
As I once did
And now, as an old man
Staring at them on the wooden table
Each one seems like an insurmountable task
Slowly I raise my trembling fingers
Fumble, and drop them to the floor
Where they clatter with a mournful sound
This poem is about someone who suffered a stroke and has to pick up marbles as part of his physical therapy. He ends up musing about the different roles marbles have played in his life
Ashley Sia
1 Purity
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