My Grandmother's Jade

Her eyes were an old, empty house,
Lifeless windows, cold, soulless.
Her body lies like a wilted flower,
Shoulders sagging, arms twitching.
The storm has passed, her last breath drawn,
And all that remained was a humble, fragile stone.

Coated in green,
With lightning strikes of white.
Every line, every curve,
Haunts my eerie night.

Beneath the smooth, cool, green facade,
Echoes the memories of her broken heart.
Every laugh, every cry,
Every melancholy goodbye.
All buried in this aestival stone.

But as it slips through my trembling grasp,
And crashes the merciless marble ground.
Cling.
It shatters...