The picture perfect front contained
a 1000 words muddled together.
The words knew how to hold each other.
On near completion, their meaning flowed.
But so hasty was this union
that parts fell where parts do,
lost under a cold place, frozen in time.
They laid a scene for a new tragedy.
A maker returns to view the box.
clears the picture, almost the same.
But tired of all the missing pieces,
bored of the now tedious game,
puts it away, breaks it apart
out of sight, out of mind.