This little dish is worn out now
Its soft pink glaze is chipped in spots
There is a crack that runs across,
A crescent edge is broke clean off.
Yet I use it often times.
Its pleasant shape of curving edge
So charming and feminine
Can one place gender in a dish?
Perhaps the flavors of foods she held
Have suffused themselves
And given weight of character;
A grand luster to this little Limoges.
Gentle style, pleasing form
All that rest on her adorned as
She carries nourishments with open hand.
Care in handling – perhaps some bandaging
Such damage does command.
Still useful in her artful way
Through a lifetime of bumps and scrapes yet
Her filigree curves smoothly to the touch
The world grows things to throw away
This plate I’ll keep another day.