Vase

What am I? 

A doormat for your shoes? 

Cobblestone for your steps? 

Am I meant for nothing more 

than a book, open pages, 

assigned by your english professor, 

homework that’s late? 

Not for your perusal, 

not for your sweet talks. 

Don’t make a promise out of glass and drop it off the edge that is this cliff that is this life that is my heart and soul and 

Don’t crack your mother’s vase.