It will always be

Glass is still 

glass whether we 

gaze through it 

or shatter it 

into a million pieces 

or make a mystical mural 

or hold red roses 

or clean thoroughly 

to take a pretty picture 

or search for on the beach

or step on unexpectedly

at a dark sketchy park 

or wash with sudsy soap.

Glass is still 

glass whether it 

holds pink lemonade or 

vials of blood, bright 

green acid, a mothers 

warm tomato soup 

for her sickly neighbor 

or a sourdough starter.

Glass is still 

glass covering a dusty

family portrait hidden away

or a new young driver during 

their first time on the road 

or a profuse amount of plants

in a shiny new green house 

or the orange goldfish of a 

toddlers first surprise pet.