The Globe

There I stood, snow-globe in hand,
my fingers curled around the glass.
I held the globe close to my body,
that it would not fall from my grasp.

I shook it up and watched the snow fall,
fall on the roofs of the homes
and the clothes of the miniature people,
inside that small dome.

My eyes became dark and I looked away,
the cloned people and homes forsaken.
And so I dropped it, freed it from me,
knowing I would cause the broken men.

The globe shattered next to my feet,
bringing its life to an end,
and trailing bloody footprints,
I left the pieces for God to mend.