if she could fit her life in an egg carton
not all of it would fit
there would always be some part left out
she could not account
for
the bits of Life
nobody
can quite fit into any prescribed mold
like that disturbing extra peace
of a jigsaw puzzle
that seems
to have no place to
go once the picture is complete
perhaps one of four loves she
left out of her calculations
certainly not the farm she bought
along with the ring on her third finger
no life can be so summed up
or evenly stitched together
the old bakers given
more
than is asked for to make up for
what they fail to give in the past
and yet as time adds up
these pieces it
becomes clear
she may have given too much too soon
and not gotten her
pennies worth in return
and must look ahead for another egg carton
a new jigsaw puzzle
and
a new bigger loaf of
bread
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