in the case of mosaics

In the case of mosaics, I would call you the best and the beautiful.

A mosaic is a collection of many pieces– tattered often, usually glass.
They are a collection of the colors of each piece.
And you, didn’t you know, are a mosaic in every way.

There are the smooth and jagged pieces of blue–
these are the memories of childhood
of long days in the sun and sand or cold and cloudy.
of laughter and tears and games and giggles.

Oh! And side by side are the red pieces and the purple pieces.
The collections of broken hearts and first kisses and drunken mistakes
There are the pieces of love and betrayal and knowledge and loss.

Mixed in, soft and slow are the yellows
Some pop, vivid and viable—the days that made you feel alive
Some are quiet and pale—the sunshine, still, of the soul
Green pieces add in each work of literature read
Each character  or place far away that captured your heart
In some way
And became a part of the mosaic.

The pieces of the mosaic are mundane, alone.
The pieces look as if they are ragged, nothing.
And yet, the light of new days streams in
And there it is, a mosaic.

The best and the beautiful,
in the case of mosaics.